No Man Behind series
by corneroffandom
Summary: Rockstar Spud and Ethan Carter III short stories will be uploaded here.
1. No Man Behind

_We leave no man behind, sir! SIR!_

Ethan Carter III winces as Rockstar Spud's desperate, scared voice echoes throughout his mind, leaving him a little shaky and more than a lot worried. Spud had been someone he'd overlooked for quite awhile, thinking him to be just another of Auntie Dixie's henchmen, easy to manipulate and cower with their power and influence... but that had changed when Dixie had been fired from day to day operations thanks to MVP, and Spud had still remained steadfast to the Carters, loyal no matter how much pain and humiliation it caused him.

Like this, now, chasing after Willow in the woods with an injured ankle and so much fear that EC3 could feel it coming off of the short man in waves whenever they were standing side by side, trying to see through the thick foliage. And now Willow has him. He grits his teeth and picks up Spud's abandoned walking stick, staring down at it. "Dammit...!" Throwing it into the bushes, he listens as it whips through the leaves and branches before turning in the opposite direction and racing towards where he thinks Willow might be at. "I'm going to find you, Spud. Just hang on."

It feels like it takes hours to locate the shack once more, but he manages it, trying to scope the area out, but unable to wait too long. He fears for Spud, especially in Willow's clutches, uncertain what exactly the madman would do to him. He breaks inside and sees Spud tied up on a cot, desperate and horrified, but before he can rescue him, Willow appears and beats him down, leaving him sprawled out not far from Spud, the assistant whimpering and mumbling next to him. "Spud," he grunts, slowly fighting through the pain to roll over and touch him once Willow disappears, his maddening laugh echoing through the woods. "I'm here, you're- you're gonna be ok, we just gotta get outta here."

The first thing he does is ungag Spud, listening to him pant and mumble. "Sir," he finally keens, watching with wide, terrified eyes as Ethan struggles to untie his arms. "My leg... ah, bloody hell..."

"I know," Ethan mumbles, distracted. "Just a little..." He tugs a little harder and finally succeeds, the slightly rotted ropes falling away from his wrists. "I'm going to try to be careful but I have to move your leg to get the ropes off. Just... hang in there, alright?" Spud nods, his fingers digging into the dirty fabrics of the cot, his breathing rough and loud as Ethan works hurriedly at untying him, slowly keening as it takes longer and longer to do so, EC3 realizing anew just how swollen Spud's ankle is after everything he'd been through the last couple of weeks, not to mention the hours he had forced him to stomp through the woods this afternoon. "God," he mumbles, suddenly understanding why Spud was complaining so much, his aggravation towards the other man slowly fading away to be replaced by guilt and even more appreciation.

"Sir? Are you alright?" Spud suddenly asks, the fear and worry in his voice breaking Ethan's concentration.

EC3 stares up at him and nods, his touch gentling against Spud's bad ankle as he rests it back on the cot. "Yeah, Spud, I'm not the one with the busted up ankle." He moves to untie his good ankle, relieved when these ropes are gummy to the touch, already rotting into little pieces just at the minimal force he'd put behind freeing Spud's other ankle. "Come on, let's get out of here," he says, throwing the ropes aside and shifting to stand. Spud nods, struggling to sit up enough to swing his feet out to the ground, but Ethan ignores this, lifting Spud up and carrying him out of the shack, throwing the man into speechless wonder as he walks carefully, keeping an eye out for holes or anything that would send him off balanced. "I've got you, you're safe now."

It's a long walk out of the woods and eventually Ethan looks down to find Spud asleep in his arms, head lulling against his shoulder. His eyes soften, his own aches and pains mattering a little less as Spud grimaces in his sleep, clearly still in agony himself. Ethan sighs and looks up, the sudden sight of his car in the now-visible clearing leaving him almost limp with relief as he walks the last few feet over to it, shifting his grip on Spud and finding his keys, tugging them out of his pocket and pressing Spud to his side long enough to unlock the door, pulling it open before shifting to the backseat doors. He rests Spud on the seats before moving to the other side of the car, pulling the door open and leaning in close to his bad leg. He presses his hand against Spud's ankle, feeling how swollen it still is, and slowly removes the flimsy wrap that was around it, beginning to lightly massage the abused flesh.

Spud stirs and scrambles, kicking out. "No, no, please- sir, help-"

Ethan's breath seizes in his throat as he grips his legs and holds on. "Hey, hey, relax- Spud, calm down! It's me!" His sharp words finally break through Spud's frantic struggles and their eyes lock. "See, it's just me, man. Take a breath."

"Ah. Sorry, Sir," he mutters, trying to relax. "Where are we? What happened?"

"Do you remember I came to rescue you from Willow?" Spud thinks for a minute, slowly nodding as his lips part in amazement. "Yeah... So I carried you out of there, and here we are."

Spud swallows, staring at where Ethan's fingers are resting on his leg. "You- are you massaging my... my ankle? Sir?"

"Yes, Spud, I am," he says simply, returning to kneading his foot. When he looks up and catches the shock on Spud's face, he sighs. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have dragged you out here when I knew you were injured."

"I was happy to try to help you, Sir."

"I know," Ethan says tiredly. "I know you were. But... I also know you were scared and reluctant to do this because of your leg. And then I made you walk across uneven ground all day long, and now your leg's in even worse shape than it was before..." Spud winces and hisses as Ethan's grip tightens on him accidentally. "Sorry, sorry," he mutters, gentling his hold once more as he rubs circles against his ankle bone. After a few minutes of this, he shrugs his jacket off and lifts Spud's ankle up, shifting the fabric under his leg to elevate it. "Let's get back to the house, you can take some time to rest." He moves so he can get into the driver's seat and get them out of there when thin fingers grip his hand and holds on, surprising him.

He looks back down, locking eyes with Spud. "Thank you, sir. For rescuing me, and bringing me here... trying to make my ankle feel better. I appreciate it."

Ethan sighs and squeezes his fingers. "You're welcome, Spud. Now come on. Let's go home."

"Yessir."

Ethan slumps behind the steering wheel and sighs softly, his lips twitching up into a smile as Spud tries to recite the path back to the house, his words slowly slurring as exhaustion and pain overwhelms him. When he quiets entirely, Ethan glances over his shoulder at the first red light, not surprised to find Spud fast asleep, his face turned towards where Ethan's sitting. Ignoring when the light changes and people begin honking behind him, he finds a blanket in the glove compartment- something Spud had insisted on in case they got stuck in the car, since nights were chilly out here and he didn't want the youngest Carter to suffer- and drapes it over Spud's body, tucking it in as best as he can before he takes back his seat and accelerates, eager to get them both far away from the woods, to safety.


	2. Relax

Following the search for Willow in the woods, Spud's ankle had swollen to an ugly level, Ethan growing so worried that he'd dragged him back to the doctor's. A quick examination later and they determine that he can't put any weight on it for at least a couple days, the doctor authorizing them to rent or buy a wheelchair to keep him mobile since Dixie needs him for TNA business. Ethan leaves him at the house, resting, before going to get both the wheelchair and his muscle relaxers. Normally he'd be fine pushing it off on some member of the staff, but he feels strangely responsible for the state of Spud's ankle and he needs a minute to himself anyway, so it's good to be stuck in the silence of his car, not having to look at Spud while he struggles just to sit still without grimacing in pain.

Once finished, he drives back to the house and drags the wheelchair inside, unfolding it and rolling it by the couch where Spud is currently sitting, tilting his head to look at it. "Sir?"

Ethan looks from Spud to the chair, releasing a soft breath. "Here, let's see how this looks." He plucks Spud up from the couch and settles him in the chair, stepping back to stare at him. "How does it feel?"

"It's fine, sir," he says, resting his ankle gingerly on the foot-rests. "Thank you for getting this for me, you didn't have to." He checks his command over the wheels, relieved to find that it's not difficult to roll himself around. "With some practice, I suppose that this could come in handy." He goes backwards and forwards a few times before looking up at Ethan, forcing a smile.

"Yeah, sure," Ethan says awkwardly, hoping that he won't need it- knowing all too well what something _coming in handy_ could mean when it comes to his aunt, especially in regards to Spud. "Here's your medicine." He passes over the bag as well before settling in on the couch to watch TV, trying not to stare as Spud continues to practice with the wheelchair, careful not to block his view.

"Thank you, sir."

"Uh huh," EC3 sighs, staring pointedly at the TV despite not registering a damn thing flashing across the screen.

Of course, at that week's TNA taping, Ethan's expectations come true. Dixie suggests Spud use his new wheels to help distract Willow during Ethan's tag match if needed and Spud, always desperate to please, agrees readily, Ethan's lips pressed tightly together as they work through a plan. He doesn't like it but there's little he can do to stop Spud once Dixie gets in his ear, short of tying him up and locking him in a closet... not that he'd risk injurying him further with such things. "How does it sound, Ethan?" Dixie says, patting his cheek. "Think it should work unless Spud does something to ruin it?" Her dark eyes rest on the assistant as he squirms uncomfortably in his chair, about to protest when Ethan cuts across him.

"Yeah, Aunt Di, it sounds fine. Spud will do fine." He watches as the wheelchair-bound man looks slightly mollified at his confidence in him, but it's not enough. It never feels like enough. He sighs, his guilt and uncertainty quickly getting overwhelmed and lost by the actual madness of that tag match. They're about to lose whatever advantage they have when Spud wheels himself down the ramp, attracting Willow's attention, Jeff Hardy's alter ego quickly bailing from the match and chasing him backstage, Ethan only able to watch for a few moments before he turns his attention back to the match, which he and Roode win not long afterwards.

He's relieved to go backstage and distractedly accept his aunt's congratulations. "Have you seen Spud?" She shakes her head and continues to talk excitedly about Ethan's domination until Ethan's able to brush her off and duck inside the personal locker room she'd set aside for him, looking around. It's dark and quiet and his face falls in disappointment. "A quick shower, and then I'll look around for him," he decides, stepping into the shower to get the water temperature just right before he gets his shampoo and soaps together just to jump back in shock. "GAH! Spud!"

"Sir! I- I'm sorry," the British man gasps, eyes wide as he anxiously wheels himself forward against the tile floor. "I, I couldn't think of anywhere else to hide, so I... I lost Willow and I came in here. I didn't mean to startle you-"

"No, no," he impatiently waves his hand around, stepping closer to him. "I was going to go look for you after I showered, this just... saved me a step, I guess. We won the match partially thanks to you anyway so I can't be too mad." He rests his hand on top of Spud's head, smirking down at him. "But seriously, I need a shower, so go wait out in the main part of the locker room. I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Yes sir, of course," Spud nods, hurriedly wheeling himself out to give Ethan some privacy.

As soon as he's gone and Ethan's alone, he stares at the door as it closes, too relieved to move as he listens to the soft sounds of Spud wandering around the room, sometimes bumping into things by accident- he has to grin as he hears the clipped British curses that Spud would _never _ever say in front of Dixie. He sighs and slumps back against the wall, running his fingers through his hair and wonders where exactly this Willow thing will end, if it will end, and what condition they all will be in by then.


	3. Assistance

Rockstar Spud had been trying to surprise his boss, Madam Dixie Carter, with a party, hiding to surprise her, but she had taken one look at everything and immediately began yelling at him for not focusing on more important things, then screaming at him to clean her office up. He had begrudgingly begun to do so when Willow had made an appearance, trashing the entire thing even worse.

How Spud gets away, he's not sure, but the tornado that is Willow is now gone and he's alone in Dixie's office, covered in shredded party supplies and various other things that had been on her desk. He sits in a daze, staring at the mess, wondering how _one man_ could possibly cause all of this, when there's a knock on the door behind him and he immediately tenses up, expecting it to be Willow out to attack him again, or Dixie gearing up to scream even louder than before... but when he looks over his shoulder, it's to find his best friend, Ethan Carter, standing in the doorway, examining the room with a curious look on his face. "What happened here?"

"Sir!" Spud all but sobs, scrambling to his feet and trying to make himself presentable again as he slicks his hair down with nervous, shaking hands. "I tried to put together a celebration for Madam Dixie, but she didn't appreciate it, so I was trying to take it all down, but Willow came and, and trashed _everything_... I was about to fix the room up, I swear, sir, but I just needed a minute to calm down. I'm sorry, I'll get started right this minute." He's about to bustle off and get started, though he's not sure _where_ to start, when muscular arms reach out and snag him, drawing his thin form back around. "Sir," he mutters into Ethan's jacket, unsure.

"Just take a minute and breathe, Spud," he commands the hyperactive man. "Won't get the room fixed up at all if you pass out just walking across it." They stand there for a while, Ethan's fingers brushing through Spud's hair as he follows the third generation Carter's command, taking deep breaths and breathing in that rich aftershave smell that had always just been_ Ethan_, one of the few things that could comfort and make him feel better no matter how low he's feeling, like in this moment.

"Thank you, sir," he whispers once he's calmed down enough to pull away without feeling dizzy. He turns to look at the room once more, hoping that it will look better upon a second glance, his shoulders slumping when he finds this not to be true. "Now that I'm feeling better, I suppose I best get to work." He kneels down by a pile of papers scattered across the floor, starting to scoop them up, when Ethan joins him, collecting a few papers that are under the desk. His head immediately shoots back up as he gapes at Ethan. "Sir! You shouldn't-"

"But I am," the man says simply, his voice welcoming no arguments. "You're my best friend, Spud, and if this gets you out of here sooner, fine. Besides, Willow caused most of this mess, so that makes it partially my business. I'll make him pay soon." His movements are jerky and angry when he drops the papers back on Dixie's desk, grasping handfuls of popped balloon ribbons and stuffing it into a nearby trash bin, stopping short when he realizes Spud is staring up at him in admiration. "What is it?"

The shorter man quickly regains control of himself and shakes his head with a soft smile. "Nothing, sir, just... Thank you."

Ethan watches him scramble around, picking more things up off of the floor, before moving to help finish up. "Don't mention it, Spud."


	4. Shut Up and Follow Me

Ethan Carter the Third stares at the wall in front of him as he works out, pleased to see that he's beaten his own record in weight. So lost in thought about what he'll do to Kurt Angle when he actually gets his hands on him in a few weeks, certain that his plan will be effective in retiring the veteran wrestler, he barely hears Spud as he talks from the side, a constant litany of things that seem muddled together thanks to his British accent, which seems thicker when he's upset. Frowning, Ethan finally concentrates on him and he almost drops his weights when he realizes what Spud's actually talking about.

Funeral plans. Or more precisely, _his_ funeral plans. "I would quite like Kenny Loggins to be played," he says anxiously. "Er, and me mum, she may cry a bit, but just offer her a kerchief and she'll-"

"What the hell, Spud!" Ethan finally cuts into his words. "You're not dying, God." Giving up exercising entirely, he stretches his sore muscles out before joining his best friend. "It's just Kurt Angle, and besides I'll be there. You'll get out of it fine. I promise." Spud stares up at him with something close to a worshiping look on his face and Ethan sighs, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want to hear anymore about your funeral, alright? You're gonna be around for a long time." He lightly knocks him on the jaw and smirks. "You're a gazelle... a lion... a tiger. There's no way Angle will be able to handle you."

"I know, sir, but just in case-" Spud attempts, faltering when Ethan huffs loudly, staring down at him with dark eyes. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just... I'm worried. My ankle is only just recovered, and-"

This _does_ give Ethan pause, a flicker of uncertainty passing his face as he kneels down and examines the appendage which had been damaged not that long ago thanks to Willow. Putting Spud at risk to be placed back in the ankle lock... He closes his eyes and releases a breath, seeing it from Spud's point of view as he prods his ankle, swallowing when he realizes that he can wrap his entire hand around Spud's ankle. "Damn, you're little," he mumbles, grinning fondly when Spud sputters indignantly overhead. This more than anything comforts him, proving that Spud still has some fight in him, no matter how nervous he is, so he makes it back to his feet, wiping his hands off on his pants. "Your ankle does feel ok, but I understand why you're worried."

"Yes, well, about my funeral-"

"No," Ethan refuses immediately, cupping his face and forcing him to look at him. "We're not discussing that. I'd like you to win, but if you can't, that's fine- just try to get in as much damage in as you can, alright? If he starts to target your ankle, do what you have to do to get out of it. I'll have your back. This won't be the Willow situation repeated, I promise.'

"You had my back then too though," he murmurs.

"Yes, I did," Ethan sighs, remembering getting beat up with the swirled umbrella in a shack just to rescue Spud from the lunatic's clutches. "Let's get out of here, I'm hungry." He watches Spud bustle around, collecting their things, before heading for the exit. He's just pushed the door open when-

"About Kenny Loggins, though, sir-"

"Spud! Shut up and follow me," he snaps, grabbing the other man's hand and pulling him unceremoniously out of the gym, Spud finally falling quiet about anything to do with his funeral arrangements.


	5. Repeatedly

Ethan Carter the 3rd and Rockstar Spud lose to Kurt Angle and Willow at Sacrifice. After everything, injuring Angle and keeping ahead of Willow as often as possible the last few months, it all ends like this. Spud knows it was his fault, he had ate the pin, after all. So, once they're squared away at the Carter house, Spud in his snug bedroom and Ethan in his wing of the mansion, he stares at himself in the mirror. "If you had been _better_," he tells himself, "Ethan wouldn't be disappointed. Why can't you do anything right, especially with everything the Carters have done for you?"

He grimaces and paces around his bedroom, eventually pulling his suit jacket off and throwing it haphazardly onto the bed. Continues to walk back and forth, muttering to himself. He has no doubt that Ethan's mad at him, his job in jeopardy, so he decides not to make it any worse on either of them. Goes about his work for the rest of the week, quietly sneaking out while Ethan's still asleep to the TNA offices to make sure that everything's running smoothly for Dixie, and arriving late each night, when Ethan's out at some fancy nightclub or restaurant. They don't see each other, and outside of a couple tweets Ethan sends him, Spud hears nothing from him. Which, he thinks, is just as well. It hurts, he misses his best friend, but he's failed him enough.

How he's going to handle seeing him at the televised event, he's not sure, and he even considers finding some excuse to spend the event at the office, pretend to be too wrapped up in the business aspect of everything to actually make an appearance at the show, but he can't do that either. Hands tied, he's just packed for the travel the next morning to get there when his phone lights up. It's a tweet from Ethan and his heart races as he reads it. He closes his eyes and presses the phone against his bed, not wanting to see it as he ponders the words.

Ethan in caps, telling him that he hadn't seen him since Sunday and coming as close to begging as any Carter ever has, urging him to be at the event the next day. He swallows hard, opening his eyes and lifting the phone, once more reading the tweet. "Yes sir," he whispers, hoping that he won't come to regret this decision come the next day.

When Spud arrives at the arena early the next day, his eyes are downcast, locked on the floor as he drags his suitcase through the halls. He drops it in a corner of Ethan's locker room, out of the way, before leaving again to make sure that the beginning stages of the event is running smoothly- people putting the ring together, setting lights and cameras up, doing various other things to prepare the arena for the evening's happenings. He's watching some people stringing together cords overhead when familiar hands drop on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles felt there. "Sir," he mumbles.

"Nice of you to show your face, Spud," Ethan says, his grip on Spud's shoulders opposite of his tone, abrasive and a little annoyed. "I've been texting and tweeting you all week. What the hell, man?"

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I thought you would want some space after I lost the match, so... I... did my best to give it to you, by remaining busy at the office." He glances up uncomfortably. "What did you need me here for, sir?" There's a weird look on Ethan's face that makes Spud feel even worse and he looks away again, swallowing hard.

"Ugh, dammit, Spud," Ethan sighs. "I didn't blame you for losing the match. It was an underestimation of Angle and Willow on my part. After everything you've been through the last couple of months because of them, I'd say you did pretty well, actually." His eyes are locked on Spud's ankle, which still causes him pain sometimes, and the Chief of Staff shifts anxiously as if to do so would break Ethan's focus. "Come on, let's go talk, I have something I need your help with tonight."

Spud nods, eager to take that expression off of Ethan's face, and follows him backstage. When they head towards one of the designers, he locks eyes with Ethan, who looks confident in whatever he's thinking about, which he begins to explain as soon as they're face to face with the woman. Spud's eyes widen as Ethan begins to explain that he wants to hold a wrestling exhibition later on, and Spud will thus need the proper gear. "Uh, sir," he mumbles, flushing slightly as the designer's eyes examine him, as if measuring him by sight alone.

"It's going to be great, Spud, you'll see," Ethan smirks, stepping back to let her begin.

Spud's not too sure about that, but to make up for Sunday, he keeps his complaints to himself and obliges his best friend.


	6. Where's Your Boyfriend?

After getting his gear together, and waiting backstage for Ethan to finish preparing the crowd for the exhibition to come, Spud hadn't been paying attention to anything outside of what Ethan had been saying, waiting anxiously for his cue. He doesn't realize how many things had slipped his notice until later that night when he's watching the re-show, sitting in a chair in Ethan's suite, his chin in his hands. His best friend is down the hall, taking one of his lengthy showers, a comfy blue robe and his favorite lotion waiting for him on the bed across from Spud, so he has a few minutes to take it all in.

He flushes when he hears the audience chanting "Where's your boyfriend?" to Ethan, terrified to see how exactly he reacted to it... but he keeps his calm, in fact does nothing to deny the comment. "Funny you should mention that," he says, motioning down the ramp before introducing Spud. The British man immediately pauses the TV and paces around the room, mind racing about as fast as his heart. He organizes the bedding, makes sure the robe is neat and the lotion is visible, before realizing that the water isn't running anymore. Swallowing hard, he stops fussing over everything and all but dives into the chair, swallowing down a gasp as it tilts dangerously, just to land on all four legs before Ethan enters the room.

He's humming to himself, toweling off his hair and looking purely content with everything as Spud makes it to his feet once more, grabbing the robe and reaching up to put it around his shoulders. As soon as he's comfortably engulfed by the satin, he settles down on the bed and holds the lotion out to Spud, closing his eyes as the chief of staff begins to massage his hands and wrists with the expensive cream, moisturizing his employer's skin like nothing else in the world apparently could. "What were you watching?" he asks after a moment, disrupting Spud's relief over the quiet moment. "Ah, you were watching back our segment tonight?" He smirks as he peers at the TV, paused on Spud in his ridiculous blue exhibition gear. "What'd you think?"

"I think..." He hesitates. "I think the crowd was chanting some interesting things, sir." Ethan's eyes lock on Spud's as he falters in the massage. "And... your reaction was... unexpected. I figured you'd have been offended."

"Offended? By what? People thinking we're boyfriends?" He scoffs and moves his hands so that Spud's fingers come to rest on his palms, their eyes locking when he freezes. Ethan's lips twitch into another smirk before he shrugs. "It's 2015, and besides... I could do a lot worse than crowds thinking I'm in a relationship with you."

Spud flushes all over again, staring back down at their interlaced hands. "I think I'd be a bloody awful boyfriend, sir," he admits faintly, tracing the lotion down the delicate lines crisscrossing Ethan's palms. When the third generation Carter jerks, Spud looks up, scared that he'd done something wrong, but as he sees the annoyed look in Ethan's eyes and how hard he's trying not to laugh, he remembers that it's one of his ticklish spots. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't worry about it," he sighs, turning his hands back around to let Spud resume working on his wrists. "As for if you'd be a bad boyfriend or not, as long as you put as much focus on that as you do being my aunt's chief of staff, I'm sure you'd be fine. Just like with everything else, it's a learning curve."

Spud's about to say something else, glancing up at Ethan bashfully, when he yawns, blinking heavily. "Ah, time for bed, sir," he says knowingly, smoothing the last of the lotion into Ethan's shower warmed flesh before wiping his hands off on a nearby towel and pulling the sheets up to rest on Ethan's chest. "Good night, sir."

"G'night, Spud," he mumbles, asleep as soon as he finishes speaking.

Spud watches him for a moment before wandering around, turning off lights and the TV. Standing at the door, he listens to his breathing. "Thank you, Ethan," he whispers before shutting the door carefully behind him.


	7. Therapy

_Alone. He's all alone. No one's looking twice at him as he ventures down the halls, never feeling so small or meaningless as this his entire career. He'd always had the title of _Dixie Carter's Chief of Staff_ or_ Ethan Carter's best friend,_ which gave him some control backstage, or at least enough confidence to pretend that he mattered even in the slightest. He feels lost and aimless, each breath hard to force into his lungs. Dizzy and ill, he continues to walk, everything seeming muted and faded around him. Seeing a sign on a locker room, he stops short and reaches out for the door, holding his breath as he stares at the letters spelling out EC3. The doorknob doesn't turn- he's locked out, with no key on his person._

He wakes up with a gasp and scrambles around, reaching for something that isn't there. "Sir, no!" He freezes when he registers the soft breathing across the room. It's dark, hard to see, but soon his eyes adjust to his surroundings and he swallows, realizing that he's in a hotel room, Ethan sleeping soundly in the other bed across the room. He sniffs and runs a hand down his face, wiggling his toes under the sheets just to realize... _I'm missing a bloody sock!_ Still trembling from the dream, he looks over at his best friend and releases a sharp breath, realizing that whatever that dream was is wrong. He's still Dixie's Chief of Staff, Ethan's best friend... everything's fine.

Needing something to sooth his nerves, he gingerly gets up, desperate for the bed to _not_ squeak, and makes his way to the bathroom. A glass of water later, splashing more of the cool liquid against his sweaty face, he returns to bed and unplugs his phone from where it's charging, examining it. He tweets about the dream, careful not to explain exact details, but _does_ mention the loss of his sock, trying to make it seem funny for when Ethan's awake and reading his timeline later. Nothing helps, he's still wide awake, the nightmare replaying again and again in his mind. "Bollocks," he sighs, glancing over at Ethan before getting out of bed and collecting his tablet and his shoes, tiptoeing outside of the hotel room.

The hotel lobby is quiet, only a couple of people wandering around, and Spud sets up at a nearby table, beginning some of the office work that he's been a bit behind on while helping Ethan against Willow and Angle. He's lost in the day to day minutia of TNA when his phone lights up and he blinks, peering at it. His twitter text alerts are set for three specific accounts- Impact's, Dixie's and, of course, Ethan's- and he has to smile when he sees it's a tweet from his best friend in response to his nightmare tweet. It's a running joke from the third generation Carter, about things that "aren't in the budget" (Spud loves the Carters, but none of them can budget to save their lives, and he had tried to help them with it a few times, but none of them were interested so, for the sake of his friendship with the family, he'd let it go), so he doesn't take it personally when Ethan's tweet tells him that if he needs a therapist, it's not in the budget.

His response of just needing someone to talk to is far from glib, but he's not surprised when Ethan doesn't respond, figuring that his best friend had just woke up for a moment, checked his phone, saw the tweet- and various fans' responses- and decided to respond, then rolled over and fell back asleep. "Lucky bugger," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes before returning to his work. He's not sure how much time has passed when a chair across from where he's sitting is pulled back and someone sits down heavily, their eyes locked on him. He's too focused, too exhausted, to entertain some strange fan, so he ignores them and continues skimming financial reports and contracts, making sure that as many things are running smoothly for TNA as possible when he's not at his office. Until...

"Spud." 

His head jerks up, lips sagging. "Sir!" he gapes at Ethan. "How long have you been here?!" Flustered, he puts his tablet down and immediately focuses on his best friend, guilty.

"Just a few minutes, relax," Ethan says lazily, running his fingers through his hair as he lounges back in the chair. "How long have _you_ been here?"

Spud falters, looks out of the window, then down at the time flashing on his phone. "Um. Three hours... or more..." He coughs as Ethan peers at him. "Do you need something, sir?"

"The dream was pretty bad, huh?"

Spud looks shocked, before schooling his expression. "Oh, no, sir, just a ridiculous dream. It meant nothing. I'm fine now. See, I've had quite a productive morning." He shows him the list of things he'd managed to check off since coming down here a little before 9 AM but Ethan seems uninterested. Shame growing, he powers the tablet back down and collects his papers, putting them in tidy piles anxiously until a larger hand grips his smaller one and squeezes it until he looks up. "Sir..."

"You only work like this at such an obnoxious hour when you're unable to sleep," Ethan tells him simply. "You tweeted me you needed someone to talk to, so I'm here now. Talk."

Spud grimaces. "I don't... it's not necessary, sir. Please- Let's go get something to eat, you're probably hungry, right? It's close enough to noon-thirty, we can-"

"Spud!" he snaps, shutting the British man up effectively. "Just talk to me."

They stare at each other for long, tense moments, before Spud's already shaky resolve cracks entirely. "I was alone, and no one cared to look at me twice, and... I was locked out of your locker room, I had nothing and no one. I was... irrelevant..." He shudders and looks away. "It's ridiculous, sir, don't worry-" But Ethan's hand is still on his and he can't escape, or keep his eyes from his best friend, so he looks back, desperation bleeding through his gaze. "Sir..."

"It won't happen," he says simply. "You're stuck with us. My parents think of you as an honorary Carter, and my aunt always speaks very highly of you. But all of that aside, we were best friends from the first moment I met you, so no nightmares, real or imagined, will change that, no matter what happens from here on out."

Spud releases a ragged breath. "Are you sure, sir? I know I can be grating-"

"So can I," Ethan shrugs. "You accept it from me with no qualms, it's the least I can do to reciprocate."

"Thank you, sir," Spud murmurs.

Ethan grins at him before peering at his papers. "So, what you were saying about food..."

"Ah, yes, right." Scrambling around, he collects all of his things and stands up. "Let's go get something to eat, sir." With Ethan's hand warm on his back, they head out to find something acceptable for lunch.


	8. Undefeated

Madam Dixie had _not_ been happy. Which, Spud reflects, he can't blame her. He'd been put in charge of the TNA offices, and Bully had infiltrated everything, throwing a party with the staff and keeping them all from finishing their work, which always puts everything off schedule... Spud's attempts at getting him to leave had been met with derision and Bully had offered him a beer, just to powerslam him through a table. Unfortunately, Bully had escaped before security could arrive and actually _do _something, but Dixie had arrived not long after that, spitting insults and anger towards her Chief of Staff for not doing what she'd clearly needed him to do.

By the time she'd run out of steam, he'd been sitting up, staring blankly ahead and fighting tears as the woman so dear to him laid into him with a lecture he feels was warranted, if painful as hell to actually sit and listen to. The words echoing through his mind are more torturous than even his back right now, though if he's being frank, everything hurts from his toes to his hair. His only comfort is that, during his own drama, Ethan succeeded against Angle during their match at the Impact Zone, taking him out of the game with an apparent ACL tear.

Now, he's laying in bed, staring at the dark wall and willing his thoughts- and the throbbing pain that the shards of table stabbing through his suit had left him- to quiet, leave him in peace... when the door to his room creaks open and a tall shadow stares in at him from the hallway, Spud holding his breath and wondering if Ethan will share his aunt's hatred for his ineptitude, or will just let it go until morning... but instead, he enters the room, socked feet padding against the wooden floor as he approaches the bed. Spud swallows as Ethan crouches down so they're eye to eye and his lips quirk up into an amused grin. "Aha, you _are_ awake." He crouches down and tilts his head, taking in the exhaustion in the other man's eyes. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"No, sir," Spud mumbles. Ethan's hand rests on his shoulder and he wants to pull away, everything hypersensitive to him right now, but Ethan's touch feels nice, warm and sturdy, so he forces himself to stay still and absorb the touch. "Madam Dixie hates me, and rightfully so, sir," he finally offers, voice shaking as they stare at each other, a flash of shock filling Ethan's gaze. "I bloody well ruined everything, and my job-"

"Oh please," Ethan exclaims, causing Spud to jump, which sears his body with even more agony. As he grits his teeth against it, Ethan lowers his voice, nearly oblivious to Spud's pain, and continues, "My aunt adores you, she calls you her little Spudsy so often, it's kind of sickening. So you had an off night. Not everything can be a winner _all_ of the time unless you're me." He offers a smug grin but, when Spud doesn't say anything, he grows serious. "Besides, she only just offered you that extended contract a few weeks ago. Your job's secure, Spud. Trust me."

Spud does. Despite all of the anxiety and tension leaving him coiled up tighter than most springs, he believes in Ethan enough to buy into what he's telling him. For now. "Thank you, sir," he murmurs, Ethan's warmth against his arm, the confidence he has in his proclamation, makes Spud slowly relax as his doubts wash away. "You're a good friend."

Ethan watches him drift for awhile. "So are you, Spud," he mumbles, relieved when Spud finally sinks into the mattress, leaving behind his body's various aches and pains, his worried, fearful thoughts along with it. "Good night." He's almost reluctant to getto his feet and go but he doesn't want to disrupt Spud's sleep now that he's finally found some comfort so, with one glance back at him, he closes the door behind him and leans against it for a moment, shaking his head. "As if I'd let her fire you," he mumbles before heading to his own bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.


	9. Elevator

Spud knew he screwed up as soon as the words left his mouth. He'd been alone in an elevator with Dixie and a couple of other TNA staff, preparing for another long day of meetings and everything else required to keep TNA running as smoothly as it could be. Things had been quiet, tentative. Then he'd mentioned Bully Ray- what exactly he'd said, he can't even remember now, but the feel of Dixie's hands striking him, her indignant squeeches are as fresh to him as everything she'd said earlier in the week when Bully had crashed their business day and made a party out of everything before sending him through a table.

Business hours finally concluding, he finds himself at a restuarant, ordering food for the Carters, to try to make up for his various failures and screw ups from the past week, when a hand claps against his back and he tenses up before looking up and over, surprised to find Ethan sitting next to him. "Sir!'

"Hey, Spud," he says simply, settling in at the bar and examining the wide screened TVs all showing various programs and sports. "Figured I'd find you here." He casts a glance towards the woeful looking Chief of Staff and coughs into his hand, nudging him. "Rough day, huh?"

Spud groans and leans forward, still too short to reach to the other side of the bar considering how far away the stools already are from it. Ethan has to smile at this until he actually speaks, his voice low and drowning in self-recriminations. "I bloody well can't do anything to make your aunt happy anymore. She told me not to let her down after re-signing me, and it feels as if that's all I've been doing since." His blue eyes are desperate and tortured when he looks back towards Ethan. "I don't know why I mentioned Bully Ray at the offices earlier, sir. I deserved the walloping she gave me... but..." His shoulders slump. "Let me guess, there's footage of it..."

Ethan's lips twitch. "Yeah, it's all over the internet. Headquarters are trying to push Aunt D as the next Solange..."

"Bullocks," Spud mutters, burying his face in his hands. He doesn't move even when Ethan's hand rests on his shoulder, massaging lightly. "I don't know what to do, sir."

"Just keep doing what you're doing," he says. "Just... more carefully, perhaps. She's under a lot of stress with everything going on with TNA. Everyone seems against her, and she knows we're loyal so we get the most of her venom because she feels comfortable with letting us have it..." Spud glances over at him, surprise clear in his blue eyes, and he smirks bitterly. "Yeah, it's not all sunshine and roses with us all the time either. She likes guilt tripping me whenever she feels I'm not being appreciative enough, or doing enough for her or the business. But it's always short lived, then she's right back to being sweet Aunt D, who can't do enough for me. So just give her some time and she'll be back to the woman who was so eager to re-sign you a few weeks ago. I promise."

Spud nods, feeling a little better at his best friend's encouragement. "Thank you, sir." Finally their order arrives and Spud collects as many of the bags as he can easily carry, relieved when Ethan snags the last couple from the bar and follows him out to his car.

"My driver is over there, I'll just send him on back to the house, if you want to drive together," he suggests once the bags are safely squared away in Spud's backseat.

"Oh, yes, sir," Spud agrees, always amazed whenever the third generation Carter volunteers to spend time with him. The drive back is spent in silence until Ethan grows bored of Spud's awkwardness and turns the radio down, turning to look at him. Spud falters and looks over at him, pale and a little guilty. "Do you need something, sir?" He wonders if he'd missed something, if Ethan perhaps _had_ wanted to drive with him just for professional reasons, and his breath seizes in his chest as he turns his attention back to the road before them, shame and disappointment welling up within him.

"I'm a Carter, we always want something, Spud," he responds with a sharp grin when Spud dares peek over at him. "I was just wondering if you'd heard about Usher's tour..." As he continues to relay what he'd heard, Spud has to smile. One of the interests outside of wrestling that they share is music, especially Usher, and it helps him to relax to know that Ethan really _is_ here as a friend and not just because of what Spud offers him as an associate.

Before long, he eases into the topic and the drive back to the house passes by all too quickly, Spud's anxiety returning when he realizes that the house is lit up, people clearly home. He releases a breath as Ethan peers over the car at him, waiting for him to unlock it so they can get the food. Once inside with all of the bags, Spud quietly pads towards the kitchen, setting everything out so it looks nice. He's about to duck out, leave the Carters to their meal, when Ethan snags him and holds him in place. "Hey, Aunt D! Hope you all are hungry, Spud's brought supper."

He squirms under his best friend's arm when the click of Dixie's high heels grow closer, but he can't exactly bail _now_ so he remains, trying not to look scared when she enters the kitchen, peering around. She's worryingly quiet and he starts to worry that he'd done something wrong _again._ "I, I hope there's enough food here for everyone, Madam Dixie. I think I got everyone's favorites... including young-" Before he can mention her youngest son's food allergies, she approaches him and shocks him into silence with a maternal hug that causes him to freeze, Ethan slipping away to add another plate to the table.

"Thank you, Spud," she says softly, squeezing him before pulling away. "What do you say? Wanna join us for supper?" She peers over, realizing that Ethan had read her mind, and smiles at her nephew.

"You really want me to?" he asks, his voice going a bit highpitched as she laughs at him and pinches his cheek.

"Of course we do, darlin'. Come on. Boys, suppertime!" she calls, running her hand through Spud's hair in an attempt to make it lay flat. "Let's eat."

As the other Carters approach the table, good-natured arguing between Dixie's sons filling the room, Spud looks up at Ethan and smiles. "Thank you, sir," he mouths.

Ethan grins.


	10. Protection

Bully Ray had infiltrated Dixie's house. Left tables with "Dixie fears Bully" scrawled on them all over the lawn. Spud had never felt fear this pronounced until this very moment. It doesn't help his state of mind that he's still in a neck brace from the _last_ interaction he'd had with Bully, being put through a table at the Impact offices. But he's not about to leave Dixie alone to handle this menace, so he squares his shoulders and continues on, determined to keep her safe. His phone is in one hand, the other used to offer a little more support to his neck as he walks through the house.

He hides behind the couch, desperate for a way to get the upper hand against Bully, but the cameraman lets it slip that he's not alone and Bully catches Spud, pins him against an ottoman and then, after talking to Dixie on Spud's phone, tips the entire thing over so it falls hard across Spud's midsection, effectively winding him _and_ knocking him out all at once. He's not sure how long he's out, but he does remember coming to to Dixie leaning over him, actually seeming concerned, but her questions make very little sense to him and he can only mumble "I don't know, I don't know"

Through his mental fog, he's scared, though he's not sure why... but when he hears Bully's voice, it comes back to him in a flash. He whimpers, feeling around for his phone, but it's gone. He groans as Bully corners Dixie over his prone body, trying to get her to say that she's afraid of Bully, but Spud notes when a new pair of shoes appear in his line of sight. He knows that particular footwear quite well and it eases his mind, especially when he hears Bully hit the ground hard.

He's not sure how much time has passed after that, but the weight finally eases off of his chest and he can breathe normally again, gasping and struggling as Dixie kneels by him and cups his face, searching his eyes. He still can't hear her all too well, his fingers wrapped around her wrists. "Madam Dixie," he groans.

"How did you know?" she asks and it takes Spud a minute to realize she's talking to Ethan. "I didn't even know you were home-"

"Spud texted me awhile ago," he explains, kneeling down by Spud once he's thrown Bully out onto the front lawn to languish with the clutter of tables all over the grass. "It woke me up just in time for me to get down here and put a stop to all of this."

Spud's lips part as he considers apologizing, but Ethan's hand is resting on his forehead and Dixie is stroking his arm as they ponder what to do. "I think we should get Spud checked out, and then go to a hotel. I hate leaving my own house, but I don't feel safe here... and it's clear my security leaves something to be desired. So while I work on that, we'll sleep somewhere safe and secure." She stares down at Spud. "How does that sound?"

"Yes madam," he murmurs. The pain is ridiculous when Ethan lifts him up to carry him outside once he's sure that Bully is gone, but he grits his teeth and digs his nails into the back of Ethan's shirt in an attempt to withstand it.

"It's ok," Ethan mutters into his ear. "We're almost to the car."

"Thank you sir," he mumbles back.

-x

"So how is he?" Dixie asks Ethan once she's off the phone with her security team, leaving them with strict instructions of what she wants added to her house's defenses.

"Doctor says he was lucky," Ethan says, glancing over at her from where he's sitting by the desk. "His neck wasn't injured further.. but he does have some bruising on his sternum. He's going to be ok though."

She stands by the bed and watches Spud sleep for a few minutes, nodding. "Alright. Good." Returning to Ethan's side, she cards her fingers through his hair. "We'll teach Bully Ray a lesson for taking away our comfort in our own home. He won't get away with any of this."

"No, he won't," Ethan agrees, leaning back and staring in Spud's direction as Dixie continues massaging his scalp.


	11. Trail

Ethan's smug as he walks backstage. He'd won the hair vs hair match against Spud, officially ending their feud in his favor and with a bloody clump of Spud's hair in hand. The TNA wrestlers and knockouts had watched the match from a monitor backstage and as he walks past them, they all stare at him in disgust. He waves the hair at them jauntily and smirks as they recoil in response to the gory mess.

It's a relief to take his arm brace off, flexing his fingers and taking a deep breath before he changes into his street clothes. He's putting the brace in his luggage when it dawns on him- it's officially over... He had succeeded against Spud, and now it's time for the next step in his career. He's not sure what this means, glad to have some time to think before the next event.

Tyrus leaves to get the car and Ethan goes to get a bottle of water for the road but he's barely left his personal locker room when he hears distressed murmurs and confused conversations being held around him. Curious to see what's going on, but not caring enough to actually ask, he lurks around, pretending that he's looking at his phone until he hears Spud's name. _This_ attracts his attention, causing him to look up.

A hapless tech is walking nearby so Ethan pulls away from the wall and grabs him, glad that no one's paying attention to him. "What's going on?" he demands, ignoring the disgusted, frightened look on the man's face.

"Spud's missing," he mutters. "He disappeared after the match and no one can find him."

Ethan stares down at him, his words not registering. The match, upon reflection, had been pretty rough- the blood, hanging Spud upside down on the turnbuckle as one last humiliation before he shaves him. And now... Closing his eyes, he releases a slow breath and walks away from the tech. "I am surrounded by idiots."

How an arena full of people could lose a short, ridiculous British man dripping blood all over the place, Ethan's not sure, but it's easy enough to find the trail. The show's over so the hallways are shadowy and quiet, and it's not hard to spot the signs. He turns in a circle, eyes searching the floor of each hallway branching off from where he's standing.

The first few drops of blood on the floor are hard to see but he thanks his 20/20 Carter vision as he follows it down the hall quietly, eyes locked on the ground as he goes. The splotches of dark red on the ground are steady enough, but are smeared more and more the further he goes. As if Spud, dizzy and weak, stumbled through his own blood while doing... whatever it was he was trying to do.

It takes a minute for Ethan to realize that the blood has abruptly disappeared, his brow furrowing. "Dammit." There are no doors this far down the hallway, just production crates and things of that nature, so he turns back around and starts to retrace his steps when he realizes. The blood had ended only a few steps back and... there's a stained shoe poking out from behind one of said crates. He sighs heavily and walks over, nudging it with his foot. "Spud. Get back to the trainer's so these idiots will leave and stop costing my aunt more money." There's no reaction and he nudges again, harder this time.

Spud is still quiet, motionless, so Ethan gives up and kneels down so he can see, staring through the shadows at his former friend's blood-stained face. He's clearly unconscious and Ethan grimaces, looking around. He's considering calling someone, making them come get Spud, but... he doesn't have anyone's phone number in his phone. "Dammit, so much for being done with you," he sighs.

Leaning in, he drags Spud out from the shadows of the trunk and lifts him up, glad that the shirt he'd put on was one he never exactly liked as Spud's bloody head rests on his shoulder. "You idiot," he mumbles. "Should be getting stitched up right now, not passing out in some unused hallway." The rest of the walk is spent quietly, Ethan relieved not to meet up with anyone else as he walks into the trainer's office.

He lays Spud down on the cot and stares at the trainer as he begins to rush around, trying to clean his forehead off and see what needs to be done for him. Ethan watches for a moment before tugging the trainer to him. "Call Borash or Mandrews in here," he tells him. "Spud will freak out less if he's not alone when he wakes up."

He looks back over at Spud, clearly arguing with himself over what to say or do. In the end, Spud's unconsciousness spurs him on. "You fought well tonight. You should be proud." Turning back to the trainer, he stares menacingly down at him. "I wasn't here. Understand?"

The trainer nods, desperate to finish fixing Spud up. "Understood."

Ethan lets him go and heads for the door, pausing to look over his shoulder once more at Spud's face, almost unrecognizable due to all of the blood. Sighing, he walks out, brushing the flaky blood off of his hands. He looks up when Tyrus joins him. "Car ready?"

"Yeah, boss." If Tyrus is wondering where Ethan had wandered off to, or why his clothes are stained anew, he doesn't ask, so Ethan doesn't offer an explanation, following him out of the arena.


	12. Teach Me Sir

Spud is having a quiet, rare day off due to Dixie feeling generous since she and Serge had worked out a family vacation that even their sons were both looking forward to. His neck and ankle are still healing so he's glad to have time to decompress, relax... until his phone lights up.

It's a tweet alert from Ethan, about how he's on a date. Spud grimaces, wishing he was anywhere close to being on par with his best friend on _anything_. The only dates he'd ever been on had gone terribly. Trying not to sound as truthful as he feels, he replies to the tweet. _Teach me, sir. _Adds a frowny face to make it seem even more lighthearted, and then sends it.

He doesn't receive a response, which he'd expected, and soon turns on the TV, flipping through ridiculous American programming until he falls asleep to the annoying sounds a laughtrack trying, and failing, to make a show seem funny.

The following day is much like the previous, Spud quietly wandering around his apartment, finding himself bored and lonely without the Carters around to do things for, or spend time with. He's expecting his phone to light up with another notice from Ethan about his latest activities while Dixie's gone, but instead...

His doorbell rings. Frowning, Spud walks over to it, almost frightened to see who's there. The Carters are the only ones he gets along with, no one else likes him because of his loyalty to the family, so he peeks through the peephole first, eyes widening when he realizes who it is. "Sir!?" He pulls the door open and gapes at Ethan until his social graces, such as they are, return to him. "Come in, sir. Come in." Stammering slightly, he looks around his apartment, relieved to find it's relatively clean. "I thought perhaps you were on another date, Sir. Is there something you need?"

Ethan shrugs before making himself at home, sitting down on the couch and examining Spud. "Actually, I saw your tweet... so I suppose it's something you need, Spud."

The British man immediately flushes, his eyes wide. "Sir?"

Ethan smirks at him, his arms stretching along the back of the couch. "Well, I've always been better at teaching by showing, not telling... so if you're taking me out on a date, Spud, you might want to change."

Spud's jaw drops before his brain catches up, his legs feeling weak as he walks numbly into his bedroom. The click of the door closing makes him jump and he stares at himself helplessly in a mirror before swallowing heavily. "Bloody hell..."

By the time he comes out, Ethan is thumbing through TV channels, looking bored until he spots Spud, immediately sitting up straighter. "Nice," he comments, looking him up and down. "New suit, huh? My favorite color, too. It looks good on you."

Spud anxiously smooths the crisp green fabric over his chest before smiling at Ethan. "Thank you, sir. Um, I suppose we should go?"

"It's your show, Spud. You're taking me out, so we'll do whatever whenever you want." Spud looks doubtful, unsure what to do. "Come on," Ethan urges him. "What would a tiger... a gazelle... a lion do?"

Spud's eyes clear and he smiles. "Right, sir." He holds the door open for Ethan and follows him out of the apartment building, thinking quickly. After waiting by the car door until Ethan is inside, he runs around to the other side and releases another breath, peeking over at Ethan. He still seems confident in Spud, which makes Spud feel better about things as well.

They end up at a lowkey- but nice- restaurant that Spud likes a lot and Ethan grins to himself when Spud holds that door open for him as well. "Am I doing alright, sir?"

Ethan waits until they're at the table, rolling his eyes good naturedly when Spud pulls his chair out for him. "You're fine, Spud. A perfect gentleman," he adds drily. When Spud looks confused, a little worried, Ethan sighs. "There's a time and a place for everything, Spud. Some women might like that, others might prefer being self-sufficient. You'll learn the cues with time."

Hanging off of his every word, Spud nods eagerly. When the waiter comes to take their drink order, Spud urges Ethan to go ahead first before selecting an iced tea.

"That was smooth," Ethan tells him. "Never order for your date. You might get their order wrong, or be unaware of allergies. It comes off as obnoxious. But letting the other person order first is a good move."

Spud smiles at him before they begin to peruse their menus, Spud choosing chicken and Ethan veal cutlets. The two of them stare at each other before chuckling. "Small talk, depending on the person, is ok sparingly. But not too much, don't bore the poor girl." Ethan grins as Spud nods eagerly. "Get to know her but let her know more about you as well. And try to keep the wrestling talk to a minimum, for her sake as much as yours."

"Right, sir," Spud nods, trying to memorize all of this. Thankfully, once the food arrives, the dating tutorial comes to an end and they ease into conversation and laughter that only best friends who travel together a lot could share.

Both decide to skip dessert, neither wanting to make up for a cheat day, so they wander back out to the car, Ethan leaning against the top of the car to look at Spud in the dull twilight as the sun sets behind them. "I had a good time, thanks, Spud."

"Any time, sir. I had a nice time as well." Spud smiles at him before getting into the car. Ethan follows suit a minute later and Spud drives off in the direction of the Carter household. The two of them reach for the radio at the same time, Spud giving Ethan first opportunity at which station and volume the settings would be put on.

They're halfway home when an Usher song starts to play and Spud grins as Ethan hums along to it. He stops outside of the gate and idles until the song ends, rolling the window down enough to put in the security code to open the gate. He drives in and stops at the front of the house, getting out.

By the time he gets around the car, Ethan's already out and loitering around on the porch steps, waiting for him. "You know, Spud, all you really have to do is be yourself... you'll have this dating stuff down pat before you know it." He hesitates. "And as I said, it's more about cues that you'll learn to understand with time, but at the end of the date, you can usually kiss the woman goodnight, or... whatever else you both feel comfortable with."

Spud flushes a little at the thought, once more nodding. "Right, sir, yes. Of course. Thank you for all of your help. I should go back to my apartment and get some sleep now, sir. Your aunt will be home soon and I need to be at the top of my game."

Ethan nods. "Right. Good night, Spud. See you soon."

"See you, sir."

As Spud returns to his car, Ethan hesitates by the door and watches him until he's out of sight, releasing a glum sigh before pushing the door open and walking inside to the dark, quiet house.


	13. At Home

"That was amazing!" Dixie gasps, shaking her hair out as she and Ethan return to the hotel that they'd booked for the TNA crew and competitors following the Sacrifice event. She had put Bully Ray through a table as payback for his betraying Team Dixie, and it had been the highlight of her year- maybe life. Ethan hadn't had as great a night as she had, losing in a tag match with Spud against Willow and Angle, but her excitement is a little contagious so he's smiling too as she unlocks the hotel room door and ushers him in first. After their loss, he'd had Spud return to the hotel early, tiring quickly of his apologies and attempts at explaining what happened.

His first observation of the hotel room is how bright it is inside, but also very quiet. No hyperactive British man around, unless... Dixie is still talking excitedly next to him as he glances around the room, finally spotting what he's looking for. He sighs and glances at Dixie, raising his eyebrows pointedly before turning to look once more at the couch. She follows his gaze, her rambling finally coming to a sharp conclusion as she spots what has his attention. "Aw," she mumbles, her motherly nature, which is rarely seen within the TNA halls, causing her to click her tongue as they approach the sleeping Spud. "He's had a hard few weeks, hasn't he?"

Ethan nods quietly, standing over his best friend and wondering what to do. Dixie had booked this room for them purposely because there are two suites connected, not wanting to be alone in case things with Bully would continue to escalate and he's glad for that after what she'd done... Even better, that means the beds are huge so he leans over and lifts the shorter man, ignoring the look on Dixie's face as he adjusts his grip on Spud. "He can stay with me, it's no big deal," he mutters to her. "Considering how his neck's been lately, better to let him sleep in a bed instead of on the couch... this way at least he won't spend all of tomorrow complaining."

They both know it's a falsehood, Spud could sleep in the street and find some way to look at things cheerfully, very rarely complaining or raising his voice to either of them the entire time they'd known him. She nods anyway, resting a hand on Spud's back and rubbing gently, smoothing his suit down. "Right," she murmurs. "Goodnight then, darlin'."

"Goodnight, Aunt D." He grins at her and carries his best friend into the other room, kicking the door shut behind them before settling Spud down on the mattress, shaking the sheets out over him. Running a hand through his hair, he sighs and heads into the bathroom, splashing his face with water and brushing his teeth, glad to wash off some of the grime that came from wrestling earlier. By the time he returns to the main room, Spud's curled in on himself, making himself look even younger- something that seems impossible, but here it is- and he sighs, kicking off his shoes and designer jeans before laying down. He stares up at the ceiling for a minute before getting under the sheets himself, listening to Spud's soft breaths. "Goodnight, Spudsy," he mumbles, rolling over to face his friend before falling asleep quickly.

Hours later, he wakes up slowly, unsurprised to feel something warm pressed against his side. Opening his eyes, he looks down and stares into sleepy blue eyes, smirking slightly. "Hey, Spud."

"Hullo, sir," he murmurs. He wakes up over time and sits up, staring at Ethan. "Sir, honestly, I am sorry for losing last night-" He stops talking when Ethan's finger presses against his lips, quieting him successfully.

"Stop apologizing, Spud. It happened, it's done. We move on." He looks over Spud's shoulder towards the door separating them from Dixie's room and lowers his voice. "Aunt D put Bully Ray through a table last night." Spud's eyes widen almost comically at this and Ethan nods slowly. "We need to keep her safe, so no more fretting over things in the past."

"Of course, sir, yes." He's up and bustling around almost before Ethan's done speaking. "I'll go see if she needs anything, sir."

As he ducks into the bathroom to make himself presentable, Ethan drops back against the pillows and stares up at the ceiling, sighing. He has a bad feeling about Dixie's actions against Bully and what the repercussions may be, but there's little he can do about it now. With Spud by his side and the Carter money at their disposal, he's sure they can protect her... at least for awhile...


	14. Ten Feet Tall

Ethan releases a breath when his phone beeps, distracting him from tanning on the deck of a yacht. He grunts and, after lifting his hand to swat disinterestedly at it, ultimately chooses to ignore it, returning to his half dozing state after rolling over onto his stomach. It had become easier over the years to ignore the inane chatter of the other 1%ers, those who never understood his interest in the wrestling business or why someone with his funds, his looks, and everything else at his disposal would ever risk their health on such a thankless endeavor. So, while he comes along to these things to keep old 'friends' from nagging at him, he would ordinarily spend the afternoons napping or tanning or, like now, both. If not for his social status, he wouldn't bother, much prefering to swim at his aunt's house, but these are the sacrifices that have to be made, if only to keep the other socialites from gossiping and embarrassing Aunt D or the family name.

He feels when the yacht is turned around, heading back to shore, and he releases a relieved sigh as the wind against his back leaves him with a chill. Sitting up, he rubs at his eyes and grabs for his shirt, pulling it back on just before a group of women join him, gossiping loudly and giggling shrilly. The men that follow are about as annoying, their snobby speech doing little for him. He ignores them while collecting his things, absently noticing that his phone is flashing to remind him of the earlier ignored text, but there's no time to see what it is as they dock and the group of them begin to disembark.

"See you next time, Ethan!" one of the women calls after him and he nods, raising a hand in an absentminded farewell before continuing on, not even bothering to turn around and see which one had just addressed him. He'd grown past the trustfund brats who were content to live off of old money and not do anything to better themselves years ago, not that he'd ever admit that aloud.

Getting in his car, he drums his thumbs against the steering wheel before remembering his phone alerts. Pulling the device out of his pocket, he's not that surprised to find a couple of texts from his aunt about TNA business, but of course the first one that had woke him up initially had been a tweet alert from Spud. His eyebrows lift as he reads it a couple of times, lips twitching in disbelief. A Disney quote about how friends make one feel ten feet tall, Spud then adding in a simple _thank you, sir_ at the end of it. He laughs softly, wondering what the group of snobs back at the yacht would've thought of such a tweet... just to realize that he doesn't care.

Starting the car up, he drives off towards his aunt's house. It's a short drive, thankfully, and the phone remains quiet the entire time. He hums absently to himself while waiting for the gate to raise once he's put in the security code- another measure that Dixie had put in after Bully Ray's nonsense. After parking, he walks into the house and looks around, not surprised to find that it's quiet and peaceful inside, especially after being around the noisy marina for so long. There is a light on in the living room, though, so he peeks inside and smiles slightly, finding Spud sitting on the couch with a comic book in hand, various TNA folders scattered next to him, forgotten about. He'd clearly decided to take advantage of the quiet and took a break from work, which is fine, but when Ethan enters the room and scoops all of the folders up so he can sit down next to Spud, the Chief of Staff looks like he's about to have a heart attack.

"Sir!" he cries out, scrambling around to hide the comic and grab a folder and a pen all at once so he succeeds at none of it, only managing to look utterly horrified and frazzled instead.

Ethan rolls his eyes and tugs the folder from his loose grip, adding it to the rest before dropping them down on the side table. "Yeaaah. Before all of _that,_ Spud," he says with a teasing smirk, "what were you reading?"

"Uhh," he releases a weak breath as Ethan stares down at the comic. "Do you want to read one, sir?" he offers, casting an uncertain glance over at the small pile of books laying on a nearby table.

"Nah," Ethan dismisses this easily. As Spud's face falls, he settles in next to him and peers down at the one in Spud's hands. "I'll just read this one with you."

"O-oh, ok," he stammers, holding it lower so they can both see it easily. "That's fine, sir. Whatever you want."

They sit for a few minutes, Spud waiting patiently for Ethan to finish reading each page before turning to the next, when Ethan clears his throat. "You're welcome, Spudsy." It's the only acknowledgement he makes of the tweet and totally worth it as he peers out of the corner of his eye at the flush on the other man's face.


	15. Weird

_Beep._ Ethan sighs, grabbing his phone and staring at it. Another Disney quotes tweet from Spud, sent to him. He closes his eyes and grimaces, aware that it's just Spud's way of showing how he appreciates everything Ethan's done for him, but still. It's a little embarrassing, out in public like that, for anyone to see. But he can't just ignore it because they're at a Carter family meal, Spud having been invited by Ethan's father as thanks for everything he'd done for both Dixie and Ethan the last few months. He can feel Spud's eyes on his back, waiting for some sort of a reaction, a response, so he grabs the phone and replies without really thinking it through. _Weird._

He's just sent it when there's a lull in the spirited conversation going on behind him between Spud and EC2 and his dad says, "Are you alright, Spud?"

Spud doesn't answer for a long moment and when he does, his voice is strained, tense. "Yes, sir. Sorry, I'll... I'm going to see how things in the kitchen are going. Excuse me." He walks past Ethan, his eyes trained on the floor, but the third generation Carter still catches a glimpse of his face, the hurt and sadness lingering there.

Ethan releases a breath, immediately feeling bad. He hadn't meant to put _that_ look on Spud's face, but yet he had... Shaking his head, he wanders over to his dad and claps him on the shoulder, offering a halfhearted smile to him. "Hey, Dad."

"Hello son." They stand in silence for a moment, watching the steaks sizzle on the grill. "What's wrong with Spud? He checked his phone and went pale..." EC2 stares up at his son. "You look like you know something. What happened?"

"I screwed up," Ethan sighs, brushing a finger down the screen of his phone before tilting it to show his father. "He tweets me this ridiculous stuff, and it's just embarrassing. Everyone knows we're friends, why does he have to make such... a big deal out of it?"

EC2 stares at the words on the screen for a moment before shrugging. "Son, he's only been in America for a year or so, right? He doesn't know a lot of people, and the only friends he has are people from work. He's lonely and you're the best friend he has here, so that's why." The silence this time is thoughtful as Ethan takes in his father's comments. "When I invited him to this little get together today, I thought he was going to fall over. He's far from home and he misses his family, and we're the closest thing he has to either right now. Try to cut him a little slack, son."

Ethan takes a deep breath, picking his phone up and deleting the tweet that had insulted Spud, turning back to look at his dad. "Thanks, I forget sometimes what it must be like for him. I'll try to be more understanding."

"Good," EC2 tells him. "Get him to come back out here and explain more of this British slang to me."

"Yessir," he agrees with a vague smirk, heading into the kitchen. Spud is standing behind Dixie, handing her ingredients for potato salad as she asks for them, and it's obvious he notices Ethan's entrance, but says nothing, holding onto mayonnaise in anxious anticipation of Dixie requesting it. Ethan slips behind the counter and stands next to Spud, trying to wait the shorter man out. Dixie doesn't seem to need anything, busy stirring everything together, so Ethan finally reaches out and takes the mayonnaise from him, placing it on the counter. "Come with me, Spud," he mutters, relieved when Spud doesn't fight against his guiding him out the side door to the backyard.

They walk side by side in the grass for a few moments before Spud speaks up. "I'm sorry for making things awkward, sir. I just appreciate everything you and your family have done for me, and it's the easiest way for me to reflect that... the world deserves to know what great people you are."

Ethan scoffs a little before resting his hand on Spud's back. "Listen, us Carters, we don't need the world's appreciation, most are too stupid to see how much we do for them. Likewise, I'm sorry I hurt your feelings when I replied, I'm just not used to people finding it so easy to put their feelings out there. Us Carters, we tend to keep things close to the vest. Besides, I forget that you're still finding your place in the States, and you're probably homesick a lot still sometimes, huh?" Spud nods glumly and Ethan pulls him closer. "I know I'm not the nicest guy, but I'll try to be nicer about things."

Spud hesitates, then mumbles, "So I may still tweet you Disney quotes, sir?"

"Sometimes," Ethan relents, though he's pretty sure he's going to regret it in the long run. But the smile that appears on Spud's face is worth it and he grins in kind. "Come on, my dad wants to continue discussing British slang with you. I'm sure the steaks are almost done too."

Spud nods and follows him towards the house. "Thank you, sir."


	16. Drowning Level

June in Nashville is already brutally hot. Spud stares out over the city from the window of his apartment and sighs, fanning himself off with some paperwork from the office, grimaces. Being from England, he's not used to this dry, stifling heat. Sighing, he gives up on getting any significant work done and decides to give the pool on the roof a chance, not having much of an opportunity until now to do so. He's always so busy with work and making sure that Dixie is happy... but, after running around and collecting things he'll need, his guilt returns full force and he grabs the papers on his way out, just in case a quick dip in the pool would give him a second wind.

The first thing he notices is no lifeguard. The second thing he notices is the sign that declares the pool is five feet tall, which means that there isn't a shorter part of the pool for him to enter in. He sighs and eyes it suspiciously, considering its safety... or lack thereof. "Bloody hell," he grouses, dropping his bag down by one of the lawn chairs and sitting in it, crossing his arms obstentatiously. Fishing his phone out of his bag, he tweets about it, certain that people will laugh at him for his fear but he's not that strong of a swimmer, so he can only imagine just how badly things would go wrong if he _did_ enter the water, when there's no one else around to save him.

Bitter that he won't be able to swim, he instead turns around in the chair and stares out over the city, trying to calm down. "Well, I suppose it is nice, even if I can't swim," he sighs. It's still hot, more so with the sun beating down on him, but the wind is nice, soothing against his skin. He's just started to doze off when he hears footsteps on the stairs leading to the roof, the door squeaking open a minute later. Hoping that it's not a bunch of kids, he's relieved when the person walks quietly over to the chairs, dropping a bag down next to one on the other side of Spud's.

There's a splash of water and he's started to envy the person their ease by the pool, considering perhaps getting up and checking the pool out when... something wet and cool washes down his face, causing him to jump up out of the chair and into the railing that protects people from falling over the roof. "Bloody hell!" he exclaims, gasping and shaking his head desperately as he stares down at the sidewalk below, growing dizzy at the pure height. Turning sharply, he's about to lay into the person who had just splashed him when... "Sir?!"

Ethan stands next to his chair with a smirk, eyebrows lifted increduously. "Last I checked," he comments drily. "What are you doing out here, Spud?"

"Uh, er, well, I was thinking about swimming, sir, but drowning didn't seem too enticing, so I decided just to relax for awhile, get my barings..." He falls quiet as Ethan stares at him, aware that his explanation is as flimsy as his swimming skills are. "I can't swim very well, sir, and the water is almost as bloody tall as I am, and no one else was around, and I'd rather not die today, sir!"

Ethan doesn't say anything for a long moment, his head tilting as he takes in Spud's growing discomfort. Releasing a breath, he steps away from the chairs, walking towards the pool. It's then that Spud realizes he's wearing swimming trunks, his eyes widening as his best friend sits down by the pool and stares down at the water. "It doesn't seem too bad," he observes. Turning towards Spud, he shrugs. "Since I'm here, you may as well swim now, right?"

"Er, yes, right, sir," Spud says, lips parting with realization. He ventures closer and stares into the water, it suddenly not seeming so treacherous. "Well then..." The stairs make it a little easier as he walks down into the water, trying not to freak out when it spreads up his body, stopping just short of his chin.

Ethan watches lazily for a moment before diving right in from where he's sitting, grinning as he shakes the water out of his hair upon resurfacing. "See, not so bad, is it?" he asks, grinning as Spud stares at him enviously.

"No, sir, it's not so bad," he agrees, leaning against the side of the pool and letting the cool water wash over him soothingly. "Thank yo-" His words are cut off when Ethan abruptly splashes him, soaking his hair to his face. "Sir!" he sputters, responding in kind by sending a torrent of water back towards his best friend. When he's repaid by Ethan's laughter, he pauses for a moment and smiles, relieved that he'd come up here after all.


	17. Shoes

Ethan hates standing on the ramp and watching as Spud is put through a table, tears filling his eyes as he paces around behind MVP's crew, unable to do anything to help him. He mumbles agitatedly, watching and waiting, when finally the Wolves and Aries begin to brawl with MVP, Lashley and Kenny King. He's standing on the side of the ramp, watching blankly as Bully and EY leave, Ray pointing at him, a dangerous promise lurking in his gaze. But Ethan doesn't care, rushing down the ramp as soon as they're gone.

Referees and trainers are with Spud, some trying to clear the ring for when the brawl eventually finds some order in the ring, but he doesn't care, sliding into the ring and picking up the shoe that Spud had lost when he'd gone through the table. Pushing a path through the men surrounding his best friend, he kneels down by him and tries to get a good look at him, which is hard to do considering the tears still welling in his eyes. Cursing, he wipes at his face and leans closer, lifting Spud up. Hoping that his neck brace will be enough support, he ignores the referees and trainer, carrying him to the apron and laying him back down, rolling out of the ring.

Picking Spud up once more and avoiding the six still brawling around, he walks purposely backstage and directly to the trainer's office, carefully settling Spud down on the nearest cot. Immediately, Spud struggles, his eyes fluttering open as he groans painfully. "Sir- sir... bloody hell..."

His voice is weak, a clammy sweat on his skin, and Ethan winces, placing his shoes carefully on the couch before returning to his side. "It's ok, Spud. Shhhh, you're gonna be alright. I have to check in with Aunt D, but I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?"

It's clear when Spud tries to be brave, his eyes dulling slightly as he nods. "Yes, sir. I'll- I'll be alright."

Ethan pats his arm carefully before turning, staring at the trainer. "Take good care of him," he says through gritted teeth. The walk out of the office and down the hall to his aunt's feels ten years long, Ethan desperate to talk with her for a brief time, then return to Spud's side to make sure he's not being left to suffer. Except that she's in one of her rant-y moods, refusing to listen to him and by the time he manages to get a word in edgewise, he doesn't because what she's said done nothing but distracted him from his original point. "Refereeing? But, Aunt D- Spud-"

"Spud's in fine hands, our staff will take care of him. I need you to oversee the non-title match later, make sure everything goes well," she says stubbornly.

Ethan sighs and nods, giving in. "Fine. Fine, Aunt D." He waits for a minute to see if she's going to say something else but she doesn't so he leaves, standing in the hallway for a moment, trying to calm down. "Fine..." Squaring his shoulders, he retraces his steps back to the trainer's office just to freeze upon finding the cot Spud had been at empty. "Where is he?" he demands, all kinds of bad thoughts rushing through his mind.

"Since he was unconscious when you brought him in, and considering his prior injuries, I made the call to have him transported to the hospital. They can check him out more thoroughly there." The trainer seems undisturbed by Ethan's growing agitation, carrying on with his work like he hadn't just said enough to get Ethan's imagination running in circles even more than before.

"Dammit," he hisses, pausing only long enough to collect the abandoned shoes on the couch before storming out of the room. He paces around backstage, carding his fingers through his hair. He can't leave, no matter how much he'd like to. He has to at least stay long enough to referee the match to keep Aunt D from freaking out further. Ethan's about to throw it all aside and call the hospital, just to check in, when his phone lights up in his hand and.. it's a tweet from Spud, complaining about the idiots at the hospital not giving him his shoes. He blinks at it a few times, glancing down at the white shoes held under his arm and slaps a hand to his forehead, realizing that Spud had been unconscious or really groggy after Ethan had taken them. "Damn," he sighs. Trying to distract Spud, he tweets him back, teasing him about his health insurance deductibles due to all of his hospital stays.

Rolling his eyes at Spud's response claiming that Dixie had told him not to bother with such things due to his job being an office job, he makes a note to give the hospital proof of Spud's insurance later on, before catching a glimpse of the clock. "Dammit!" Racing off to change clothes to get ready to referee, he only just remembers to leave the white shoes in his locker room before rushing back to the ring. Thankfully watching Bully and EY distracts him from the thoughts of Spud alone in some strange hospital and he stands back and watches as MVP's crew run down once more, the brawl that ensues making it easy enough for him to sneak away, holding his face and grumbling.

Dixie is on a rampage when he makes it backstage, talking angrily about Bully and MVP and everything else that's been going on tonight. "... and Spud! Where in the world is he when we need him?"

Ethan stops short then, turning slowly when his aunt almost runs into his back, a flash of doubt crossing her face. "He's in the hospital. Again," he tells her. "I'm going to change and go see him now. We'll talk later."

She sputters and gapes after him, nodding dumbly. "Al... alright, Ethan."

He ducks into his locker room, slipping into street clothes. He's half out the door when he remembers again, rushing over to the couch and grabbing the shoes, stuffing them into his bag. He's out of the arena within five minutes, relieved to not run into his aunt once more.

The hospital that Spud's at is brightly lit, loud and annoying. He grimaces and avoids a nurse as she bustles past, staring down at a clipboard and not paying any attention to him. He makes his way over to the nurse's desk and stares down at the people chatting lazily there until they look up at him. "I'm here to see James Curtin?"

They stare up at him for a few moments longer before checking the monitor. "Right, follow me," one of the nurses says, getting to her feet and heading down one of the halls. He glances back for a moment, thinking about the health insurance issue, before deciding to handle it after he sees Spud. The room he's lead to is noisy, the bed next to Spud's occupied by a man with his TV blaring.

As soon as the nurse leaves, Ethan makes a face, distastefully plucking at the curtain to peer in at the man. "Turn it down," he orders him darkly, glaring at him until he obliges, quelling under Ethan's intensity.

Once the room is peaceful, the TV only softly droning now, he enters Spud's half of the room and watches as the chief of staff looks up, his face immediately lighting up when he spots Ethan. "Sir! You- you came to see me?" He picks at the scratchy looking blanket. "Sir, they still won't give me my shoes back. I don't understand..."

Ethan settles down next to him on the bed and shakes his head, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. "Silly Spud, it's kind of hard for them to return to you something they don't have, don't you think?" Spud stares at him in confusion until he pulls the shoes from behind his back, his lips parting in surprise. "You were thrown through the table with so much force that they fell off of your feet in the ring," he explains lowly, running a finger against the white material. "I picked them up and have had them since. They were never in this hospital." He's starting to feel choked up again, reliving the moment that Spud had crashed through the table with absolutely no buffer, how still and pale he had been when Ethan had carried him backstage.

Thin fingers rest over his, his tan skin contrasting against Spud's paler flesh, and he looks up. "I'm going to be ok Sir," Spud tells him lowly. "I promise. This won't affect my job, or loyalty to you and Madam Dixie."

"I know it won't," Ethan tells him. Spud's still exhausted, weak, so he leans back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Ethan smooths the blankets over him. "I'll be back in a minute, Spud."

"Alright, sir," he murmurs tiredly, barely moving. He's still half-asleep when Ethan returns after straightening out the health insurance issue with the nurses, but the hospital is slowly easing into a sort of bustling peace so Ethan settles down next to him and watches, relieved that he seems to be doing better than earlier.

"I'll be here when you wake up, Spud. Good night," Ethan murmurs, putting Spud's hands back under the blanket before leaning back to keep an eye on him while he sleeps.


	18. Blood

Still recuperating from being put through a table the week prior, Spud is given the night off, forced to lay on the couch and listen to the staff puttering around different parts of the house while he waits for TNA to come on. The Carters are at the show, however, so he's stubbornly trying to stay awake long enough to watch, but it's hard, his body still sore, the bloody neck brace around his throat making it hard to see much of anything. He sighs and nuzzles into the cushions, biting his lip when his back protests even this small movement. He stays awake long enough to see the recap of the week prior, the pain in Ethan's eyes as Spud's slammed thoughtlessly off of the top rope. He feels sick inside at Ethan feeling any kind of misery, but it's almost nice to see that the man _does_ care so he smiles a little, gripping the remote tighter in an attempt at staying awake.

It doesn't help, however. His eyes grow heavier and he's asleep before the first entrance can be concluded, his body engulfed by the soft sheet that Dixie had tucked around him before leaving. He whimpers a time or two, his rest disrupted by the sounds of violence coming from the TV, but sleeps until he hears Dixie screaming, realizing that Ethan's team has lost the first blood match, the signs of which are all over Ethan's face as his aunt protects him from getting beat down further backstage. He struggles to sit up, overwhelmed by a sudden need to get up, go to the arena, assist his employers, but as soon as he's more or less upright, dizziness leaves him slouching back against the couch and he groans, digging his fingers into his eyes. "Sir..." He can barely stand to move again, listening to the TV show continue on relentlessly.

When the front door slams open, Ethan storming through the house, it's something of a relief, although it's clear how pissed off he is. "SPUD!"

He jumps and whimpers, hand immediately going for his neck, but he struggles to sound stable when he responds. "Sir?"

Ethan's steps change direction, heading right into the living room, but when he catches sight of Spud, some of the anger eases from his face and he sighs, looking weary. Walking to the couch, he settles in next to Spud and obliges the other man as he sits up and rests a hand on the bandage covering the damage along his forehead. "How are you doing?"

"A little better, sir," he lies. He still feels weak and shaky, but being in his employer's presence is helping him to focus on something else unlike the last few hours when he was alone with nothing but the TV to keep him company. "Are you ok?"

"Fine," he lies as well, leaning back and sighing as Spud examines the job done on him back at the arena. "Does it pass your muster?"

Spud pulls back and stares at him for a moment before realizing he's teasing his scrutiny, flushing. "Oh, yes, sir, they did an acceptable job." He sits down, arm to arm the third generation Carter, and sighs. "We're in some state, aren't we, sir?"

Ethan doesn't answer verbally but drops an arm carefully around Spud's shoulders, pulling him closer. "We'll be alright. And the timing for this may be poor, considering, but as soon as you wake up in the morning, I need you to start looking for information that I can use against Bully Ray..."

Spud swallows, staring up at him, a new kind of determination filling his light blue eyes. "Yes, sir, it'll be my pleasure to." Nothing more is said about it, Ethan falling quiet with a dangerous kind of intensity as he thinks about the threat against his aunt that Bully provides and Spud knows that finding anyway to slow Bully down has to be their focus from now on. But for tonight, he leans against his best friend and tries not to think about what's to come if they- _he_\- should fail.


	19. Baseball

Spud's neck is still fresh agony. Even so, there are houseshows that weekend and he reports to duty, relieved to be back by Ethan's side after so long of being useless and forced to watch from the Carter compound as things with Bully Ray intensify. The event tonight is held on a baseball field, the sun feeling nice against Spud's face as he stares up at the bright blue sky as best as he can despite his neck brace. Between his recovery and everything else going on, he hadn't had much time to enjoy the warmer weather. Feeling eyes on him, he looks forward once and flushes, finding Ethan staring at him with a strange look on his face. "Er, sir!" he exclaims. "Is... is there something you need?"

Ethan smirks and shrugs before holding his hand up. "Look what I have." He waits patiently while Spud walks closer, the sun in his eyes making it hard to see. Finally realization dawns and Ethan grins as he tosses the baseball into the air and catches it with an ease that Spud admires and envies. "Wanna play catch while we wait for the event to start?"

Spud hesitates, his hand reaching up to touch his neck brace selfconsciously. "Oh, sir, I don't know..."

"C'mon, Spud," Ethan urges him. "It'll be fun... And I'll take it easy on you." When Spud still hesitates, he sighs. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course, sir!" he stammers, eyes wide with desperation at the thought of letting Ethan assume otherwise.

"Then come on," he urges him with a calm smile, walking a few feet away. "Ready?"

"I suppose," he mumbles, shaking his hands anxiously before holding them out to catch. The first throw, Spud flinches away from and it flies over his head.

Ethan grimaces as he tries to chase it down, running slower than usual because of his injury. He finally gets his fingers around it and turns to look at his employer with a sheepish expression on his face. Ethan releases a breath and tries to look encouraging. "C'mon, Spud, toss it over."

He does and it's weak, barely making it halfway to Ethan before hitting the ground and bouncing until Ethan runs forward and grabs it. It's clear this idea wasn't the best, considering Spud's health, but he insists they continue on so Ethan obliges him until he's out of breath and sweaty, wheezing when EC3 joins him and squeezes his arm. "Sir?"

"Let's go cool off out of the sun before the show starts," he urges him, guiding him over to the bleachers. There's a door leading out from there but they stay inside, surrounded by cool cement stands, and Spud sighs as Ethan buys him a bottle of water from a nearby machine.

"Thank you, sir," he murmurs, running the bottle over his flushed face. "I'm sorry I ruined your plan. Perhaps you can find someone else to play catch with..."

Ethan, however, shakes his head. "Nah, that's fine." He nudges Spud carefully. "Maybe I'll give you a second crack at it when you're not injured."

Spud's eyes light up. "Thank you, sir. I'd like that."


	20. Nap

Ethan sighs, enjoying the silence of the mansion. He has the day off, as does the rest of the TNA roster. His aunt is somewhere, probably at TNA headquarters, and he's pretty sure Spud would be there too, expect that Dixie had given him more time off to recover, his neck still something of a mess after all of the abuse he's taken the past few months. Which means that they're alone, except for the household staff, wandering around busily, cleaning and cooking and whatever else Dixie requires of them.

He and Spud are sitting on either ends of the couch, Ethan's legs stretched lazily out on an ottoman while Spud sits ramrod straight, glaring murderously at his phone. Ethan's eyebrows raises as he ponders just what the British man is doing, the stance looking far from comfortable, especially with his neck. He receives an answer not long afterwards when he idly checks Spud's twitter profile, finding a bunch of responses to nobodies on Twitter- people who watch TNA giving him grief over his height, his suits, his loyalty to the Carters.

He watches it in silence for awhile, smirk growing at some of the better insults Spud throws at people, but some of the comments shot back at Spud grow too personal, too fast, and before long, the Chief of Staff looks like he wants nothing more than to throw his phone across the room and stomp on it. "Bloody hell!" he exclaims, the first words he's spoken in... Ethan's not sure how long. 

Taking this as his cue, he cups Spud's hands and tugs the phone out of them, laying it pointedly on the table in front of him. "Ignore them," he says, turning back to his best friend. "They're not worth your time. Especially on the rare day off that we both have. They're just jealous of everything we have in life that they'll never be."

Spud grimaces and nods, his gaze still fixed on the phone. When Ethan reaches out and grips his jaw, carefully but firmly turning him to look away from the device, he swallows hard and stares at his employer. "Sir?"

He sighs and lets go of Spud, standing up. "Come on, I'm tired." He had mostly just been reading but still, he'd been up early- before noonthirty- and it wears on him. "Let's go take a nap. You look wiped out too."

Spud's eyes betray him by trailing over to the phone once more. "I have a lot of work to do, though..."

Ethan snaps his fingers at Spud to get his attention and he looks up, a guilty look in his deep blue eyes. "Don't make me carry you away from that phone. Come on."

Spud sighs and gives up, his shoulders slumping as he gets to his feet, leaving the phone behind as Ethan walks with him towards the bedrooms. Halfway there, he yawns lazily, flushing when Ethan peers over at him knowingly. "Thank you, sir," he finally murmurs.

"You're welcome," Ethan says simply, massaging his shoulders for a few moments before pushing Spud towards his bedroom. "If I see you've tweeted in the next three hours, I'll come break your phone."

Spud pales at the threat. "Right, sir. Of course."

He slips into his bedroom and Ethan walks a little bit further down the hall to his own, leaving his door open a few inches just in case.


	21. Fright

"Sir," Spud pleads as he and Ethan leave the ringside area. "Please, no- take it back, it's not too late-"

"Spud," Ethan snaps. "I've already made up my mind. I will destroy Bully Ray and keep my aunt safe. This Texas Death Match will be nothing, and then how will you feel for doubting me?"

"I don't doubt you," he protests vocally. "I never doubt you, sir, it's just..." He hesitates, staring down at his feet. "The match has _Death_ in its name, anyone would be worried..."

"I'm not," Ethan says simply, pulling another shirt from his bag and pulling it on. "I'm a Carter. The world needs me, it doesn't need another _Dudley._ I'll prove this to you and to everyone at Slammiversary."

Spud grimaces and sits down next to him, tugging at his sleeves loosely. "You don't need to prove anything to me, sir. I know how brilliant you are as a wrestler, but you're also my best friend and the thought of you in a Death Match just makes me uncomfortable. Not because I expect Bully Ray to defeat you, far from it, it's just a horrible sounding name for a match."

Ethan takes a deep breath, feeling his adrenaline slowly fading away now that he's done confronting Bully Ray for the night, taking his annoyance towards Spud with it. "I can see how it would make you uncomfortable, but it's just another match like many other matches I've competed in over the last few months. Yeah, there's gonna be weapons and who knows what all else, but I'll make Bully regret ever looking twice at my aunt, or me... or you."

Spud looks surprised at his being mentioned in this, then nods. "Al... alright. I'll be at ringside if you need me, sir."

"No," Ethan says immediately. "I don't want you to accompany me. Stay backstage where you'll be safe. If it looks like I need help, fine, but just to start things off... I want to be able to focus on Bully entirely and not worry about if he's going to try to send you through another table. You've had enough neck injuries and problems lately. Trust me, alright?"

"Of course, sir." Spud swallows and stands up, trying to resume being professional. "What do you want to do now, sir? We can stop somewhere and get something to eat, or just go to the hotel..."

"Food," he says after barely taking a second to think.

"Alright, sir." Spud checks the room to make sure all of their things are packed before picking their bags up and, staggering only a little under the weight, follows Ethan to the door. He gapes when Ethan reaches out and grips his own bag, tugging it calmly out of Spud's hands and carrying it himself.

"Come on, let's go." Dropping his free arm over Spud's shoulder, he walks with him out of the arena.


	22. Success

The Texas Death Match is everything, and more, Spud had feared for Ethan Carter III. Chairs and tables, even a cheese grater, covers some of the weapons Bully's used against him, even a trash can full of broken glass that he thinks he'll be digging out of Ethan's legs and back for the next few days. He's sure he'd bitten all of his nails to the quick before running out to help, his eyes gritty and red.

Spud has a massive headache and he's pretty dizzy. Ethan's chest was rubbed raw by chops and the cheese grater. Despite the various aches and pains, Ethan had walked out a winner against Bully Ray, it being a group effort to put the man through a table. And Dixie is fine, that's the important thing. She had gone back to her immaculate hotel suite, leaving them to theirs, which isn't quite the penthouse, but close.

Spud stands anxiously until Ethan finishes in the bathroom, walks out and collapses onto the bed without a word spoken. He tugs at his sleeves and rubs his temples, head still aching from that kendo stick shot, when he finds some soothing cream and walks towards the bed. His step is unsteady, he feels like he could fall at any time but Ethan isn't paying attention, close to asleep where he lay. But Spud knows he'll feel awful in the morning, so he grips his bare shoulder and tries to get him to roll over. "Sir, please," he murmurs, too tired to drag him over on his own.

Ethan stirs and finally follows the guide of Spud's hand, laying on his back and breathing in and out softly as Spud sits down next to him and begins to spread the cream upon the ugly marks on his chest where Bully had tried to grate his flesh. It's clear he's not sleeping as he grimaces and shifts, brow furrowed. Spud watches him as he finishes with the cream, wiping his hands off on a kleenex. Spud grabs the sheets and pulls them up as far as he can while avoiding his sensitive flesh. "Good night, sir," he murmurs, about to stand up and try to make his way over to the couch where he'll curl up and sleep for a few hours until the calls from Dixie begin anew.

That is, until Ethan sits up and stares at him sleepily, his eyes narrowed. "You alright?" He reaches out and grips Spud's jaw, staring into his eyes. "Did the medic check you out?"

"N- no, sir, I knew he needed to focus on you and Madam Dixie," he says feebly, blinking in a attempt to clear his slightly blurry vision. Ethan looks far from pleased at this, as if he's about to grip Spud by the arm and drag him out to find the man, but then he moves wrong and grimaces, gripping his still burning midsection. "Sir, please, lay down. I'll be ok-"

"No you're not," he groans. "Idiot, you should've gotten yourself checked out." He tugs on Spud's arm until he's sprawled out next to Ethan, the two of them staring up at the ceiling quietly. "Stay there, and we'll just... keep an eye on each other tonight, and then tomorrow we'll see if you actually have anything in that head of yours."

Spud releases a breath, the words warming him despite their sting. "Alright, sir," he sighs. "I can do that." He blinks when Ethan rolls over, wraps an arm around Spud and tugs him closer, already half asleep again.

"'Night, Spud," Ethan mumbles against his arm. "You'd better still be here when I wake up."

Spud's lips twitch up into a smile as he pats Ethan's wrist. "I will, sir. Good night."


	23. Worry

Spud is busy with errands for Dixie, picking up office supplies, lunch for the workers, anything else she thinks he should do, when his phone starts beeping repeatedly. It's not Dixie, she only tweets or texts him sometimes, which means... _DM from: ethancartertna DM from: ethancartertna DM from: ethancartertna DM from: ethancartertna DM from: ethancartertna DM from: ethancartertna._ He gapes as the list grows with each passing moment, Spud releasing a breath. "What is going on, sir?"

Putting everything else aside for a moment, more concerned with his best friend than Dixie's easily changing moods, he dials Ethan's number and stands numbly while it rings in, ignoring the people who are forced to walk around him and the box of supplies now resting in the middle of the hallway. Finally it clicks and Spud breathes out, "Sir? Is there-"

"About time you responded, Spud," the third generation Carter snaps. "What the hell are you doing that's more important than responding-, no you know, never mind, it doesn't matter," he cuts himself off before Spud can even begin to formulate a response. "For whatever reason, people in TNA think it'd be a good idea to ask the fans on Twitter what they think about TNA maybe beginning to use six-sided rings again. I don't know who, exactly, but I'm going to _suggest_ to Aunt D that she fires them on the spot."

Spud hesitates, trying to keep up with what Ethan is ranting about. The six-sided ring had been a TNA staple for so many years, he thinks it'd be a nice call-back for the die hard fans, but Ethan sounds so displeased with it, he wisely stops before saying such things to the man. "You don't like that, sir?"

"Hell no I don't like it, Spud! Six sided rings are needless, they're just dangerous," he snaps. "You don't want me to get hurt competing in one of them, do you?"

"N- no, of course not, sir," he sputters, nudging the box at his feet anxiously. Ethan already has enough injuries, his chest still raw and cut up from the grater and everything else Bully had done to him during the Texas Death Match. He bites his lip, leaning down and picking the box up with a bit of a struggle, his own various aches and pains playing with him. "I'll see what I can do, sir."

"One thing you can do is keep the damn thing from trending!" Ethan snaps at him before the line goes dead, Ethan hanging up on him.

He sighs and closes his eyes, trudging down the hall with the box held precariously in his hands. He makes it to the offices and puts it down, watching bemusedly as the various office workers swarm and take what they need before disappearing back into their places. Turning towards Dixie's office, he hesitates outside of it before knocking .

"What is it?" she calls out, Spud squaring his shoulders before entering. She sighs in aggravation, raising her eyebrows at him impatiently. "What is it now, Spud? I'm busy."

"I know, madam, I know. I just... got off of the phone with Sir Ethan," he explains weakly. "He's far from happy with the prospect of competing in the six-sided ring. Is there...?"

"Spud," she says tensely, adjusting some papers on her desk before turning to him once more. "It's my duty to do what needs to be done to make TNA successful. Bringing back the six sided ring, it's not at the top of my priorities, but I've been told perhaps it'll make the fans happy, so it's something I'm considering. Their feedback is crucial to see if it's something wanted. Tell my nephew that he'll get used to it, he's naturally gifted enough that it'll come easily for him." She condescendingly pats him on the cheek before waving him out of the room.

He obligingly leaves, leaning against her door with a weary sigh. As he walks back through the halls, no one pays him any mind now that the supply run is completed. Swallowing, he checks his phone to find that '6-sided ring' is indeed trending on Twitter. After sending a quick, worried tweet to Ethan, he heads for Dixie's assistant and smiles weakly at her. "I'm going to take my break now," he tells her as she glances up at him. "Please tell Madam Dixie I'll be back soon."

"Fine, Spud," she says, typing away boredly.

He hesitates to see if she might need something else from him, anything else, but she doesn't even look at him again so he turns and leaves the building, a sad look on his face. The drive back to the Carter mansion is somber and distracted, Spud checking his phone each red light. Ethan hasn't responded to his tweet and he worries with each passing block that Ethan's trashed something, hurt himself, in response to yet again not getting his way.

Pulling into the driveway, he puts the code in at the gate and continues on inside, parking in his designated spot, far away from the other, nicer looking cars. Getting out, he sprints towards the large house and unlocks the door, careful not to let it bang against the inside wall in his haste to check on Ethan. "Sir? Are you home?" The house is quiet, almost too quiet, but he checks each room anyway, careful to make sure Ethan's not slumped down in one of them, tired out from a fit of rage.

He's nowhere to be seen, however, so Spud heads out to the pool-side area, finally finding him. He's shirtless, throwing anything and everything he can think of into the cool blue water, lawn chairs and potted plants, Dixie's weird ceramic animals and... he's just turned to the monstrous grill, about to dump it over when Spud rushes forward, grabbing at him. "No, no, sir, stop!" he exclaims, gripping his wrists. "Please-" He's barely finished speaking when he feels a sharp push that takes the wind out of his lungs and he's falling backwards into the pool, eyes widening as he's abruptly submerged.

Struggling to paddle up to the top, his suit and dress shoes weighing him down, he just barely breaks the surface long enough to catch a glimpse of Ethan, standing there frozen, an angry, confused gaze locked on the pool below, when he collapses to his knees by the pool and presses a hand to his own chest, red starting to ooze through his bandages. Spud goes under once more, then fights his way to the corner of the pool, trying to pull himself up by the ladder that's there. Propelled by determination to help his employer, he makes it up onto the sun kissed tiles, coughing and sopping wet, leaving puddles on the pool side area.

Ethan looks at him blankly before shaking his head, a startled, dark look in his eyes. "Spud... where did you come from?"

He coughs and spits out some more water before looking wanly at his best friend. "I was just trying to keep you from hurting yourself, sir." Ethan grimaces, Spud turning his attention to the blood still seeping through his bandages. "Come on, sir, let's get you cleaned up... and perhaps some dry clothes for us both." They're both soaked, Ethan from the splashes caused by throwing everything in the vicinity into the pool, and he nods jerkily as Spud reaches out and helps him to his feet, the two of them supporting each other inside as Ethan stares down at Spud.

"I'm sorry, Spud," he finally mutters.

"I know, sir," the chief of staff responds after a moment. "I'm sorry too, that I was unable to stop the 6-sided ring from trending. But Madam Dixie and I have faith in you, sir. If anyone can quickly adjust to the change, and succeed despite of it, it'll be you." Ethan's vague smile as they continue to walk through the house, neither minding that much when they drip all over the floors, makes the last hour worth it to Spud.


	24. Retrieval

"Madam! No," Spud protests helplessly as Dixie grips his hand hard, dragging him out of the building. "Sir- he..."

"Stop it, Spud!" she yells at him. "Bully Ray is after me and you're going to drive me to the hotel so I will be safe now! Ethan can take care of himself!"

It hurts, aches at him to follow her commands, but as much as he's loyal to Ethan, she's the one who pays the checks so he obliges her, drives back to the hotel and walks with her from the lobby to the elevator, then from the elevator to her room. As soon as he's sure she's safe inside, security standing watch at the door, he checks his phone and pales upon finding many voicemail messages waiting for him.

After playing the first one, which is simply Ethan screaming at him to come back- which makes Spud's heart sink, his guilt multiplying tenfold- he leaves her to do whatever it is Dixie Carter does after a show and grips the keys in hand, walking determinedly to the car. He holds his breath and peels off, hoping that Dixie won't get mad at him for treating her vehicle so carelessly, the thought quickly forgotten as he drives as fast as he dares back to the arena.

When he arrives, things are quiet, all the focus on whatever's happening in the ring and he hopes that that's a good sign, but something tells him that it's not. He trails around the halls, keeping an eye out for his best friend just to cringe back when a group of aggravated agents and refs wander past, complaining about Tommy Dreamer. His unease grows as he makes his way towards Ethan's personal locker room, peeking inside to find it empty.

Continuing on his way, he stops outside of the trainer's room, hearing a commotion inside. This time, he succeeds at finding the third generation Carter. "Sir," he releases a weary breath. When Ethan looks up, his gaze sends the shorter man stumbling back a few steps out of a survival instinct. Ethan looks frenzied, his hair all over the place and bruises forming around his body. He's walking with a limp and all and all, he looks awful. Spud swallows and approaches him anyway, trying to shake away his fear. "Sir..."

Ethan grips him by his collar, lifting him up until they're face to face and glaring into his eyes. "Where were you?! I was calling, and calling, and you were just gone. Left me to get ambushed by Tommy Dreamer, and..."

Spud swallows hard, gripping Ethan's wrists with white knuckled fingers as he tries not to struggle too hard, not wanting to fall or worse. "Sir, please... I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't want to leave... but your aunt..." He coughs as even talking this much tightens his already bunched up suit around his throat and he finds it increasingly hard to breathe. "Madam Dixie demanded I drive her back to the hotel to keep her safe from Bully Ray!'

_This_ slowly seems to register with Ethan. He blinks up at a teary eyed, gasping Spud, his grip slowly easing on him until he settles him down on the floor once more. He slowly shakes his head, resting a hand on Spud's back as he pants for breath. "No, I'm sorry. I should've guessed..." He rubs circles between Spud's shoulderblades until he stands upright once more, staring at him with sad, hopeful eyes. "Let's get out of here."

"Yes, sir, yes," Spud breathes out, leaning over to pick up the keys from where he'd dropped them while Ethan was holding him. The drive back to the hotel is quiet, and Spud's never been as relieved as he is the moment he pushes the door open and allows Ethan to enter first. "I'll get ice," he says softly, watching as Ethan gingerly pulls his clothes off and settles into bed, nodding wearily. Spud shuts the door behind him before padding down the hall, massaging his throat.

Plucking an ice cube from the pile as he waits for the bucket to fill up entirely, he rubs it against his sore throat, cringing against the cold. Sighing, he lifts the bucket and carries it back down the hall to their room, settling it on the ground for a moment while unlocking the door. Ethan looks up as he enters, but Spud keeps quiet as he wraps the ice in towels, careful not to touch any of the ice directly to Ethan's bare flesh when he begins to apply them. Ethan's knee, his back, his chest, his arms, the back of his neck, anywhere and everywhere else that he's instructed towards.

As soon as he's done, Ethan nods. "Thanks, Spud. Go on, get some sleep."

Surprised and uncertain by the sudden dismissal, Spud hesitates. Stares down at his best friend, biting his lip, before deciding to take him up on his offer. "My pleasure, Sir," he murmurs, heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth, change his clothes. Ethan hasn't moved when he returns to the main room so he takes it as his cue to call it a night early and clicks the lamp off. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Spud," Ethan sighs out.

Encouraged by the continued silence, Spud rolls over after a few minutes and closes his eyes, almost glad to be going to bed early, content in the knowledge that Dixie and Ethan both are safe in bed, Bully and Tommy and anyone else unable to touch them for now. He's asleep within minutes. At least, that is until his bed dips and a familiar weight settles in behind him, Spud blinking awake. "Sir?"

"Yes, Spud."

"Is something wrong?" he asks into the darkness, rolling over to face his best friend.

"Can't sleep. I'm cold," he confesses. "The ice packs and the air conditioning... it was all just a bit too much, I guess."

Spud grimaces, feeling like even more of a failure. "I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't even think about that. I'll go shut the air conditioning-" But before he can sit up, Ethan's hand grips his wrist, keeping him in place. "Sir..."

"I have a better idea," Ethan says, his smirk visible even in the mostly dark room.

Spud blinks as he finds himself outside a few minutes later, both of them still in their sleep clothes- which for him, are pajama bottoms and a tank top, and for Ethan, is nothing but his boxers. They sit by the pool and pass the champagne bottle that had thankfully remained untouched by Bully Ray earlier, Spud drinking sluggish sips from it while Ethan pulls deeply from the bubbly alcohol. "This is nice, sir," he says quietly. And it is, between the soft wind blowing through his blond hair, the pool licking against the cement edges, and only muffled rumbles of car engines as they drive past on the nearest highway.

"Yeah, it is," Ethan admits. They sit quietly for awhile, Ethan handing over the champagne bottle once more, when Spud grips his hand and holds on, not taking the bottle.

Their eyes lock and he licks his lips. "I really am sorry, sir. I never would abandon you if I could help it, you know that..."

"I do," he sighs, absentmindledly stroking Spud's knuckles. "I wasn't thinking, but my aunt comes first. You did the right thing. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He peeks at Spud's throat. "You're alright, right?"

"Yessir, I'm fine," he says simply. It hurts, yes, in more ways than one, but the pain from Ethan's voicemail message resonates with him more than anything else. "Are you?"

"I'm fine." They sit quietly, still passing the alcohol back and forth, until Spud dozes off, his head coming to rest on Ethan's shoulder. He notices after a few moments, a small smile crossing his face. Putting the mostly empty bottle down, he stands and leans over, lifting Spud up into his arms like he's a sleepy child... but the first step sends sharp pain down his knee and he grits his teeth, the alcohol also playing with him as he stumbles, dizzy. The only thing grounding him is Spud's weight in his arms.

It's clear, if they're going to make it in one piece, that he's not going to get Spud to the elevator, much less up to their room. So he does the next best thing and makes his way slowly around the pool to sit in a lawn chair. Spud settles in his lap, fast asleep, and Ethan releases a breath, patting his soft blond hair down gently. "Good night, for real this time, Spud," he whispers to him with a smile.

Lulled by the soft sounds of nature and Spud's steady breathing, Ethan falls quickly asleep as well.


	25. Empathy

Spud wakes up with a groan on July 1st, rolling over onto his side. He has a lot of work ahead of him, Dixie growing more and more frantic with her demands as this Bully Ray business continues to evolve, the tension felt by everyone and anyone who spends even a minute with Dixie. He wants nothing more than to go back to sleep but there's a rapid banging on his bedroom door and he doesn't have much choice, recognizing the cadence of the strikes.

All but falling out of bed in an attempt to free himself from his sheets, he stumbles towards the door and unlocks it, pulling it open. He runs a hand through his messy blond hair, blinking blurrily at Ethan. "Sir? Is there a problem? Madam Dixie-?"

"No, she's fine," Ethan says, pushing past him and digging around in Spud's closet with little warning. Spud can do nothing but gape as he brushes numerous suits aside until he finds what he's looking for, tossing a robe at Spud. "C'mon, let's go, we're going to miss the start of the World Cup."

Spud's jaw drops as he fumbles with the puddling article of clothing. "Sir, I have work today-"

"Nope, I called in for you," Ethan says cheerfully. "You're going to keep me company during America vs Belgium. C'mon, put that on and prepare to be nothing more than a couch potato today." Seeing Spud's narrowed eyes, he coughs. "No pun intended. But seriously, move it, Spudsy." He claps him on the back before walking to the door and holding it open for him.

Spud sighs and wraps up in the robe before leaving the room, looking over his shoulder as Ethan follows, already chattering about America destroying Belgium and how great it's going to be, apple pie and Stars and Stripes and whatever else. He obliges him, never really minding his best friend's all-too rare cheerful rambling. It helps him to see why he's so devoted to the Carters, that underneath the rich smugness, there are real people who get excited and feel pain, want to better themselves, and sometimes fail just like anyone else.

Which is why he finds himself, hours later, sitting on the couch, stroking Ethan's back after he rages his way through America losing to Belgium 2-1, nearly upending the table with the remenants of their lunch and whatever else snacks and drinks the staff had brought them during the lengthy game. "I'm sorry, Sir," he murmurs.

"Whatever," he snaps, brushing Spud's hands away and sitting up. "It's a stupid game, and was a waste of time anyway." He watches as Spud's face falls, brow furrowing until he realizes. "The game was, Spud. Spending the afternoon with you wasn't," he explains, his anger fading away in the presence of Spud's hurt. "I'm sorry I made you miss a day of work, but don't worry, Aunt D won't hold it against you. I'll explain the situation to her." He claps Spud on the back and moves to stand up, fix the table.

He freezes when Spud's hands rest over his, stalling him from picking up the scattered plates and utensils that had toppled over when he'd kicked it over in the initial bit of rage. "Don't worry about it, Sir. I'll handle it." He squeezes Ethan's hands. "I was going to say, I'm sorry your team lost, Sir... but I did have fun this afternoon, with you."

Ethan's lips twitch upwards and he inclines his head slightly. "So did I."

Spud smiles too and they set to clearing the table off and putting everything right once more. "I'll tell the staff to take Belgium waffles off of the menus, sir."

"Good man."


	26. Japan

"I can't believe this," Ethan mumbles, standing stiff as he watches Spud pile up their luggage in their hotel room. "Fourth of July, spent in Japan. Hmph... how patriotic." He turns away, picking at his clothes, and Spud looks over at him worriedly. "Well, I guess there's worse ways to spend the holiday." He pokes at his phone for a few minutes before looking up. "Are you finished, Spud?"

The British man almost falls over at the question. "Yessir, I am!" he exclaims once he's regained control of himself, scrambling to his feet. "Is there something else you need me to do?"

Ethan shakes his head, pursing his lips as he pockets his phone. "No, but my friend Sakamoto wants to meet us for lunch. You up for it?"

"I'm invited as well, sir?" Spud asks, sounding honestly surprised about this.

Ethan hesitates over his wallet, stuffed with Japanese currency, before frowning at him. "Of course you are, Spud. You think I'd leave you behind here? Sakamoto seems eager to meet you. C'mon."

Spud hesitates for only a moment longer, peering down at his clothes. "Do I look ok, sir?"

"We're both been on a ridiculously long flight, Spud. No one cares what we look like. Are you ready?" Spud's just begun to nod as Ethan finishes collecting his things and claps Spud on the back, leading him out of the room.

"Maybe we can find fireworks to watch after we get home, sir," he offers while they wait for the elevator to come. Ethan smirks a little and adjusts his shirt in the reflection of the shiny doors. "Or I could perhaps set up a private fireworks show for just the Carters..."

Ethan looks over at him, his smile growing more sincere. "See, that's the kind of thinking that we keep you around for, Spud." Spud chuckles, flustered, as they walk side by side into the car, Ethan eager to see his old friend from days long past once more.

"Do you think Mr. Sakamoto will like me, sir?" Spud asks after a moment, his voice so quiet that he thinks perhaps Ethan won't be able to hear it over the hum of the elevator slowly descending.

It's clear he had, however, when Ethan scoffs and rubs Spud's neck. "How could he not, Spud? I'm sure you two will get along perfectly. Stop worrying."

Spud tries, and he almost succeeds. But it doesn't matter because, of course, Ethan is right, and the three of them become nearly inseparable for the rest of the trip, Ethan even forgetting how cranky missing one of his favorite holidays had made him earlier in the day.

Afterwards, they're resting in the hotel room, thinking about their upcoming tag match, when Spud rolls over and looks at his best friend. "Thank you for agreeing to team up with me, sir. I'm enjoying myself, and I hope you are too."

Ethan blinks at him, looking sleepy. It doesn't stop him from nodding, however, as he smiles at Spud. "Of course, man. Who else would I want to partner with? You're a tiger, a lion... a gazelle, remember? Exactly who I need to have my back for whatever may be on the horizon."

Spud flushes and nods. "Right, of course, sir. Well, thank you anyway." He stares at the ceiling for a moment before looking over to find Ethan fast asleep, his breathing steady and deep. Spud smiles and gets up, padding over and pulling the sheets up over Ethan's prone body. "G'night, sir," he whispers, watching him for a moment before returning to his own bed.


	27. Translate

Jetlag. Spud hates it, though he's somewhat gotten used to it over the years as a wrestler. Still, as he lays in their Japanese hotel room and stares up at the ceiling, too jittery to sleep but too exhausted to actually get up and do something, he can't help but wonder what a life without it would be like. He rolls over and finds Ethan in a condition similar to his, staring blurrily at the TV as he flicks through channels listlessly. Groaning, Spud buries his face in his pillows and tries to relax enough to find rest, but it continues to evade him.

He's not sure how much time has passed when Ethan speaks up. "Dammit, I can't understand a thing being said."

Spud sits up and stares at the TV with a frown. "They're speaking Japanese, sir," he says helpfully, running a hand through his flat hair.

"No kidding," Ethan snaps, frowning at the TV screen. "Get over here, Spud, and translate what they're saying for me."

The Chief of Staff sputters helplessly as he gapes at his best friend. "But, sir, I can't speak Japanese either!" he protests, knowing immediately that it'll do no good- Ethan's still staring expectantly at him, looking like he's about to snap his fingers impatiently if Spud doesn't do as requested.

Sighing, the British man gets out of his bed and moves over to Ethan's to get a better look at the TV. It's a cartoon, with bright characters and loud scenery, talking animals and strangely drawn humans. He coughs, unsure where to begin, but when the next scene starts, Ethan nudges him so he clears his throat and attempts it. Even gives some of the characters special voices as he gets into the roles, trying to make a story out of what he's seeing on the screen. Which appears to be a small panda type creature sad and missing his friend, a boy who had visited him at the zoo every day until ceasing abruptly for no real reason that the panda can tell.

His throat quickly growing dry with the various pitches and cadences of the voices, he digs his nails into his palm, determined to see the scene through. Finally it goes to commercial and he gasps, reaching over to grab a bottle of water on the table between their beds. He downs half of it without taking a breath, only realizing once his throat burns a little less that Ethan hadn't reacted to his sign of weakness. Looking up, Spud blinks upon finding his employer fast asleep.

The TV is still loud so he grabs the remote and hits the mute button, relieved when the lack of sound doesn't wake Ethan up. The story he had been telling still feels unfinished, however, so he sits crosslegged next to Ethan and stares at the TV screen, tilting his head. He's quieter with the voices this time, finishing the story with a happy ending: the boy returning to the zoo on the weekends when he's not in school, the panda growing happy once more when he sees the boy again. Spud finishes offering dialogue to the characters before laying back against the pillows and listening to Ethan breathing. "Yeah," he murmurs, closing his eyes.

A few moments later, Ethan shifts and drops an arm over Spud's chest, drawn by his warmth. "Nice story," he murmurs sleepily.

"I thought you were asleep, sir," Spud whispers back, surprised.

"Kinda, not really," Ethan shrugs. This time, however, when he goes still and quiet next to Spud, it's clear he's out, his arm heavy against Spud's midsection.

He smiles, not minding it. "Good night, sir." Telling the story, and thinking up voices for the characters, had drained whatever energy remained and Spud finds himself drifting towards sleep as well.


	28. Mess

Japan had left Ethan cranky and disgusted with a number of things. He's sure some of it can be attributed to jetlag, and some to losing in the tag match, but all in all being back at home in the States isn't leaving him feeling as successful as he'd hoped. Not to mention Spud's shoddy packing job had ruined his favorite purple shirt when his tanner had spilled all over. He sighs and pinches his nose, closing his eyes against the exhaustion that still lingers from the long flights. "Dammit..."

Leaving the suitcase open on the floor, Ethan stands up and walks down the hall, too frustrated to continue unpacking. He lays on his bed and stares at his phone in aggravation before tweeting his displeasure to Spud publicly, ignoring the response he receives a few minutes later. He stares at the ceiling until jitters from the ever-present jetlag and his anger eases enough for him to fall asleep. He wakes up just as slowly, feeling groggy and confused. He's also pretty sure he's not alone, but he doesn't feel threatened, burying his face in his pillow and smacking his lips together, grimacing against how dry they are.

He's laying there, sleepily remembering how much of a mess his luggage was, huffing. _Last time I make Spud pack my things for me,_ he thinks, digging his nails into the pillow as he relives the last morning they'd spent in Japan. Spud had been bustling around, collecting his and Ethan's things and putting them where they belonged in the suitcases, while Ethan watched Pokemon, making faces at the strange language, and ate a leisurely breakfast.

Finally the Chief of Staff stood before him, arms crossed behind his back. "I'm finished, sir. Everything's organized and liquids are packed properly."

"Great," Ethan said, stuffing one last piece of toast in his mouth. "Let's get going then, I don't want to get stuck in traffic." He shut the TV off and stood, clapping Spud on the shoulder. "You did pack the tanner, right?"

"Yessir, in the baggie with the other things." They had left and it was in line at the airport that Ethan saw his bag again, next to Spud's, both of theirs opened as they were searched, international flight security just a little more intense than regular flights.

This realization brings with it more memories- Spud looking uncomfortable at the wait, the glances they received as their bags were looked through, and then finally the relief when they were allowed to continue on, their luggage closed up and put with the other checked luggage.

Ethan immediately feels awful and sits up, fully awake now. He grabs his phone and reads the tweet he'd ignored earlier, almost not surprised to find that it's confirmation from Spud that his luggage had gotten messed up too. He closes his eyes and presses a knuckle to his forehead, about to roll out of bed, when there's a sheepish clearing of a throat across the room and he jumps, remembering the sense that he wasn't alone when he'd first woke up.

"Sorry, sir, it's just me," Spud's soft voice says, his blue eyes squinting when Ethan fumbles for a lamp and blinds them both. "I, uh, am glad you're awake. I've brought your luggage in here, and I... I had your favorite shirt drycleaned, it looks... it looks spotless now." He holds the purple shirt up and smiles hopefully, barely able to look Ethan in the eye. "Right? I- I think they did an alright job on it, anyway, sir. If you disagree, I will go get the money back, demand they get better workers, whatever you want."

The shirt looks brand new, Ethan can't see anything wrong with it anymore. He sighs and stands up, walking over to Spud's side. "Thank you," he offers the younger man, taking the shirt from him and hanging it in his closet, where he finds that Spud's unpacked his bag and put everything away, hanging it the way that Ethan prefers with such care that he thinks it must've taken forever to have everything _just so._ Which, considering that Spud has to feel as awful as Ethan was earlier, if not worse, that's saying something. He sighs and joins his friend, clapping him on the back. "Go get some sleep, Spud, then we'll go get something to eat. Yeah?"

Spud looks up, eyes red-rimmed but hopeful. "Really, sir? Even though I ruined your favorite shirt-?"

"Nothing's ruined," Ethan says, shaking his head. "And you didn't do anything. I think it was the airport, unpacking and searching everything. I'm sorry for tweeting you that, it wasn't fair." He squeezes Spud's shoulder. "Go on, get some sleep, I'll be alright on my own for awhile."

Spud smiles weakly. "Alright, sir. Thank you." He stands and then hugs Ethan, relieved. Ethan hesitates for only a moment before hugging him back, carding his fingers through his soft blond hair. "G'night, sir."

"Good night, Spud," he murmurs, turning to watch him leave. Ethan smiles faintly and sighs, feeling a lot better now too.


	29. Close

"Come on," Ethan mutters, motioning to Rhyno as they walk away from the ringside area, Spud in tow. Ethan had high hopes for the match, intending on becoming #1 contender, but Bully had been just as determined to keep it from happening, so of course... they had been eliminated, Ethan's chances fading quickly as soon as Spud was gone. His dark eyes peer over at the woozy man, releasing a breath. Spud had been invaluable in the match, keeping Ethan from getting eliminated quite a few times and avoiding getting targetted by hugging the bottom rope determinedly.

Between the two of them, they get Spud out of the arena and back to the hotel in one piece before anyone could spot them and make things worse somehow. Once Spud is settled on his bed, Ethan allows Rhyno to leave, watching as the door closes behind him with some relief. Turning back around to check on Spud, he's surprised to discover that Spud's eyes are opened slightly, the British man staring at him distantly. "Are you OK, sir?" he asks, trying to sit up and failing.

Ethan shakes his head and walks over to the bed and sits next to Spud, resting a hand on his ankle carefully. "I should be the one asking you that, considering that I wouldn't have been in the match as long as I was if not for you and your creativity in lasting so long even with so many people targeting you at once." He pauses and runs his fingers over Spud's lower leg, watching his face to find where it appears to hurt the worst. Once he thinks he has a good enough idea, he stands up and dusts his hands off on his slacks and walks towards the door. Turning back towards Spud, he tries to smile comfortingly. "I'll be back in a few minutes, get some rest."

He's only gone long enough to go down the hall and get some ice, but he still feels uncomfortable and somewhat vulnerable until he's back in the hotel room, watching Spud sleep restlessly. He goes to the sink and puts together a couple icepacks, moving automatically as he remembers all of the times that Spud's done these sorts of things for him over the last few months, even when injured himself. He sighs and shakes water off of his hands before walking back into the main room and carefully placing the ice on the ankle he'd landed on so roughly when eliminated by Bully. The sight of which had spurred Ethan into charging Bully, just to eliminate both himself and the other man.

His eyes are downcast when Spud stirs, awoke by the ice on his leg. "I'm sorry, sir," he mumbles, shifting. "If I was stronger, I could've helped you longer-"

"Don't say that," Ethan interrupts, eyes flashing as he looks up at him. "You did everything we asked of you and more, as always. Considering your past neck and ankle injuries, that alone was incredible. Bully is a no good freak, and although I'm disappointed I didn't win, at least I ensured he won't win either." He quietly hands over the other ice pack and Spud understands immediately, placing it on his groin with a grimace.

"Thank you, sir," he sighs, resting back against the pillows and trying to distract himself from both the pain and the uncomfortable chill from the necessary evil of the icepacks. After a moment, Ethan lays down next to him and turns the TV on, the two of them watching quietly as he flips through channels in a worthless attempt at finding something interesting to watch at this hour since he's sure neither of them will be finding sleep any time soon.

"Any time, Spud," Ethan mumbles, his focus on his best friend although his eyes remain on the flashing TV screen before them.


	30. Care

Ethan yawns while scrolling through his twitter timeline on one of his rare days off, head held in his hand as he tries not to nod off at the inanity of the posts made by the people he follows. _Might be time for a unfollow spree,_ he's just thought when he sees Spud's name mixed in with the rest. Stopping short, he scrolls back down and rereads it, rolling his eyes upon finding Spud is challenging Lebron James. "Oh good God," he mumbles, scrubbing a hand down his face. leave Him alone for a few hours and this happens..."

Worse than that, though, is the fact that Aunt Dixie actually tweets Spud a little later, encouraging him to face the controversial basketball player. He stews over the tweets for a few minutes, trying not to let his temper get the best of him but he can feel his hands shaking as he prepares to type a response to Spud. He's not really mad at Spud if he's going to be honest with himself, but he knows how desperate the British man is to impress his aunt and the last thing he wants is for Spud to be injured on another unthought out attempt at doing so. For this reason, when he does reply, it's in caps lock and extremely impatient.

Spud doesn't respond and Ethan carries on with his tiresome day of tanning and napping as best as he can, although he can barely relax enough to actually doze off and the tanning leaves him cranky, his tan uneven and blotchy since he'd regularly rolled over to check his phone for the nonexistent reply. He huffs, staring at himself in the mirror of the bathroom, when he hears the front door of the Carter mansion open, familiar footsteps heading towards his bedroom.

He wipes his face off and returns to his main room, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting until Spud knocks. "Come in," he says briskly.

Spud peeks in before entering, an almost embarrassed blush on his face. "Hullo, sir," he says. "Jeeves gave me some mail for you, sir." Ethan takes it from him, mindlessly sorting through it before throwing it on his bedside table to look through more thoroughly later. He stands anxiously nearby, his arms crossed behind his back. "How- how was your day, then, sir?"

Ethan glowers down at the letters for a moment before turning to look at Spud, aware that the imperfections would be obvious to the other man, Ethan's shirt unbuttoned and showing off his hideous tan, the bags under his eyes blatant under the bright lights. "How was yours? Did you decide on the next athlete you're going to challenge needlessly?"

Spud falters and swallows. "I sensed by your tweet you were unhappy about that, sir," he says faintly, staring at his hands. "It... it was just... I..." He flounders for something to say, a way to explain what he'd been thinking when he tweeted it. Ethan watches him for a minute before gripping him around the shoulder, guiding him over to the bed and motioning him to sit. "Sir?" he asks uncomfortably, settling on the mattress.

"There's a lot going on, Spud. And I know you're just trying to impress my aunt, but I don't need you getting injured right now. I need you to help me keep my aunt safe from Bully Ray, alright? If you antagonize Lebron James and get taken out because of it, where will I- or she- be then?" He sighs and sits down next to Spud, nudging him. "I need you to be smart and stay safe, you know? Be a lion, a tiger, a gazelle... but don't be stupid, alright?" _You've been injured enough lately,_ he thinks but can't find the energy to say aloud.

Spud nods somberly, his cheeks reddening deeper in humiliation at not thinking of such things. "Yessir. I'll remember that. I promise I won't challenge anyone so carelessly again."

Ethan sighs and nods, clapping him on the back. "Good. Thanks." They sit quietly for a few minutes before he stands up. "Let's go sit by the pool, maybe my tan will even out then." _And I can sleep,_ he thinks as Spud's eyes light up and he scrambles to follow him.


	31. Rescue

Ethan barely has time to observe his aunt getting taken to safety by Spud and Rhino before he's grabbed from behind and dove through a table by the Dudleys. Spud grimaces in horror at the sound, Dixie's nails digging into his arm as she snaps at Rhyno to do something. It being too late, they're forced to wait and watch as Bully and D-Von slowly leave, referees and trainers heading into the ring to help Ethan out of the shards of tables. Spud is frozen in place until Dixie's babbling wakes him up and he shakes himself free of her, leaving her for Rhino to keep an eye on and darting through the crowd.

He slips into the ring and kneels by his best friend's side, cupping his face. "Sir? Sir?" There are referees and trainers around but Spud's paranoia grows with all of the people around keeping him from seeing around, just in case any of the ECW rejects should return. "Get out of here!" he snaps, waving his arms at them. "I'll take care of him. Go!" They scatter, then leave, knowing better than to ignore the Chief of Staff when he's like this. "Sir?" Turning back to Ethan, he catches his eye, gritting his teeth at the confused, vacant look there. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, reaching up and gripping Spud's wrist. "What happened? Aunt D- she's-?"

"She's fine," Spud murmurs. "She's with Rhino, sir. Do you think you can stand?" Ethan nods and Spud takes a breath. "Let's do that then." It takes most of Spud's strength to get his arms under Ethan's and prop him up but he manages it in time, holding on until Ethan's on his feet. The third generation Carter is staggering, still dizzy after going through the table, but Spud guides him to the corner and down the steps, into the crowd, where they reunite with Dixie and Rhino.

Rhino tries to help Ethan but Spud shakes his head at him. "No, I've got Sir. You stay with Madam Dixie, keep her safe." The enforcer looks far from pleased at this but eventually nods and waits for Dixie to walk on through the halls, taking a lesser traveled path through the halls to the exit. Spud has Ethan, helping him as he had many times in the past despite the differences in their size. His step falters often, Spud rethinking the decision to get out quickly keeping him from going straight to the trainer, but finally they make it to the car waiting outside and he guides Ethan into the backseat.

HIs eyes barely open a slit, he frowns over at Spud blurrily. "What's happening? Aunt D-"

"She's in the front seat," Spud whispers, keeping Ethan in his seat with a hand against his chest and leaning over to click his seatbelt into place. It's quiet, it's dark, it's strangely intimate in the backseat, all of them too anxious to speak until they're out of the arena's shadow entirely, and even then very few words are spoken until they arrive at the hotel. Spud helps Ethan to undo his seatbelt, then scoot over to the door and get out, holding him up as best as he can while eyeing Rhino. "See Madam Dixie to her room and stay with her, just in case. I'll take care of Sir."

Dixie has the penthouse suite, of course, and Ethan has one of the high-end rooms just below it, so they take separate elevators to take less time before they're all safely locked away for the night. The ride up the various floors feels endless, Spud's hand resting against Ethan's back as he grits his teeth against the dizzying sensation of rising against gravity. "It's ok, sir. You're ok," he repeats again and again until finally the beep heralding their arrival sounds, the most beautiful thing Spud's heard in awhile.

He guides Ethan down the hall, keeping him against the wall as he unlocks the door. Once the panel flashes green, he eases him inside and to the bed, kicking the door shut behind them as he goes. Ethan sighs as he hits the soft mattress, head bowed while Spud unlaces his shoes and makes him more comfortable. Gently urging him with his hands, Spud murmurs to him until he shifts up the mattress, resting against the pillows. He sighs and closes his eyes, asleep almost immediately, Spud watching him closely. "If you have a concussion, ..." His voice drifts as he rests a hand against the side of Ethan's face, relieved that he seems comfortable enough, there being no sign of a fever.

He sighs and shakes out a blanket over Ethan's prone body before settling down next to him, intending on keeping a close eye on him while he sleeps. He's not sure how much time has passed before he's jerking awake, confused and uncertain about where he's at. The darkness and a strange weight pressed against his shoulder wakes him up fully and he starts to panic until he touches soft, familiar hair and breathes a little easier, realizing. Ethan is sleeping comfortably and when Spud shifts him, he stirs and mumbles, so Spud decides he's as OK as one could be after being put through another table. "You're going to be fine, sir. I promise."

He closes his eyes and continues to stroke Ethan's hair until sleep reclaims him as well.


	32. Good Boy

It's a quiet afternoon at the Carter mansion, Ethan thumbing through TV channels while Spud handles his social media promotional duties next to him. There's nothing decent on so eventually Ethan gives up on looking, tossing the remote down on the coffee table in front of them and picking up his phone, curious to see what Spud's saying. There are a lot of idiots on Twitter at any given time and it brings Ethan no lack of amusement to watch the British man belittle them over anything from their profile picture to typos in their tweets.

While there are quite a few tweets of that nature, it's the ones that Spud has corrected for forgetting or ignoring him outright that attracts his attention. He stares at the screen for a few minutes, refreshing Spud's profile whenever it seems he had tweeted anew. Finally he accesses the 'compose a tweet' page and types quickly while Spud is distracted, putting his phone down as he sits back and waits, eyeing the TV while it drones on with some lame commercial. Only a few moments have passed when Spud makes a soft sound and Ethan peeks over at him, spotting the gleam in his eye, the soft flush dusting his skin.

There has been a noticeable upswing in complimentary tweets towards Spud, and he tends to ignore them, but one had apparently caught his eye, showing doubt towards there being anyone who could match Spud's 'awesomeness' and he had immediately replied with Ethan's twitter handle. The sincerity of the comment had not been lost on Ethan and he hadn't wanted to ignore it. So his simple response of "Good boy" had been sent out into the data wasteland of Twitter, and Spud's reaction to it makes him smile. He knows, on some level, how hard it can be to work for Dixie, her moods constantly changing and often mercurial when they do, so he takes advantage of any opportunity to put that look on Spud's face via compliments or his little pep talks.

Spud is still clearly busy replying to the various tweets he's receiving so Ethan turns his attention back to the TV, giving him a few minutes to finish up. Finally, he puts his phone down and scoots closer to Ethan. "What're you watching, sir?" he asks quietly, tilting his head at the screen.

"I have no clue," he says honestly, poking at the remote with his foot until Spud leans forward and scoops it up, flipping through the channels to find something else better to watch. They sit and watch the colors flash on the screen until Ethan glances over at him. "You handle those idiots on Twitter better than I ever could. Sometimes I regret joining social media at all."

Spud's laugh is soft and somewhat sympathetic. "I understand, sir, but I suppose considering how wrestling has changed over the years, it's become something of a necessary evil." He shifts closer and rests his head on Ethan's shoulder, hesitating over an old episode of Fresh Prince of Bel Air. When Ethan doesn't protest either of these things, he turns the volume up a little and watches the antics of the family. "My main goal is to make people pay proper attention to you and nothing else, sir. I'm glad when I succeed."

Ethan chuckles. "Well, I am too." He glances at the TV before reaching out and running his hand through Spud's hair, parting the blond strands carefully. "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome," he murmurs, drifting into a sleepy kind of quiet.


	33. Broken Promises

_"It won't happen, I promise. C'mon, you'll be fine."_Ethan had promised again and again, trying to keep Spud calm while they waited for the next episode of TNA to come around. Tweets, in person, no matter how many different ways Ethan tried to convince him, Spud remained uncomfortable and frightened of the prospect of getting Package Piledriven by Tommy Dreamer.

After the event is over, Ethan finds himself sitting in the back of Dixie's limousine, staring into Spud's blank gaze worriedly. His every promise had been a lie, the proof of which is sitting right in front of him. Rhino had taken over after the match, seeing them this far, but when they arrive at the hotel, his duties are only to Dixie so after he helps Spud out of the car, they stand anxiously for a moment. Spud is wobbly on his feet at best, so Rhino tries to hand him over to Ethan but he's lost in his own mind and fusses at the sudden movement. Taking it as a refusal, Ethan shakes his head and looks over at his aunt uncertainly. "Maybe-"

His voice does what nothing else has this entire time and attracts Spud's attention, shaking him out of the fog he'd been in since landing head first against the mat in a vicious spike. "Sir?" The one word is weak, a little shaky, but it's there, it's familiar and Ethan stares at him in shock. "Sir?"

"Hey yeah, I'm here," Ethan says, kicking himself for not thinking to talk sooner. Spud had always seemed to seek out his voice, the giver of peptalks and rare compliments alike. "Right here. You're gonna be ok." He feels terrible as soon as the words slip out of his mouth because he'd said such things before and it had been wrong, so wrong... _Not this time,_ he tells himself, gritting his teeth. "Come on, Spudsy. Let's go get you settled in our room, huh?" This time when Rhino guides Spud over, he goes eagerly, Ethan instinctively lifting him up and holding him close.

He makes a soft noise at the change in gravity but hums once he's settled, resting his face in the crook of Ethan's shoulder. "Sir..." Ethan pats his back before turning to walk towards the hotel, relieved that at least Spud is aware enough of his surroundings to allow him to get this close. "Are you ok, sir? Did we win?"

Ethan smiles bitterly, shaking his head. "I'm fine, and yes, we won, Spud." The British man is so small that it's easy enough to hold him with one hand and use the other to press the button for the elevator, Ethan feeling Spud's heart beating against his chest as they ride up to their floor. Relieved that it's quiet and deserted in the hallway, he carries Spud into the room after unlocking it and settles him on the bed, pulling his shoes and jacket off. "Lay back," he says quietly.

Some painkillers and a cool washcloth later and he returns to Spud's side, helping him to down the medicine before resting the cloth over his forehead. He then lays down next to him and watches him doze, eyes blinking open every now and again. Every time he does, his fingers curl up, then loosen, until Ethan reaches over and sandwiches his hand with his own, squeezing gently. "Sir," he whispers.

"I'm here, Spud." They lay quietly for a few minutes, Spud stirring every now and again, until Ethan shifts closer and wraps an arm around him, drawing him against his chest. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I promised you wouldn't be hurt and look at you..." Stroking Spud's soft, blond hair, he sighs and shakes his head.

"It's ok, sir," he mumbles, eyes closed as he breathes in Ethan's aftershave. "Not your fault... I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, should've been more careful..."

"You really can't blame me for anything, huh?" Ethan murmurs, shaking his head. "It's almost not fair." Spud's fingers are tangled in his shirt and Ethan smiles wanly. Maybe not by him personally but he can imagine, should some day in the future something go wrong, Spud could be seen as one of the Carter family's scapegoats and there would only be so much he could do about it. Perhaps spoiled, definitely coddled, Ethan is still seen as the baby of his family even though Dixie's sons are younger so he has a certain pull with the family but no true power. Definitely not enough to save his best friend in the worst case scenario.

This thought fresh in Ethan's mind, he holds Spud close and kisses the top of his head, a pained look in his eye as he slowly succumbs to sleep.


	34. Aftermath

Spud swallows hard as he stares at paperwork, confirming what he can. By the end of the year, TNA will be off of Spike Network. Dixie's search for a replacement home for the company seems to be taking a backseat to this business with Bully Ray, and all of it makes him feel ill. If something happens to her, happens to the company... He closes his eyes and grimaces, shaking his head. He really has enjoyed his time with the Carters, working for them, learning from them, and attempting to make TNA better, stronger. Viable competition.

If it all falls apart, he'll have to return to England, his work Visa null and void. Which, he loves England, but the States have come to feel like a home to him and he doesn't want to leave his friends behind. This fresh on his mind, he puts the papers down and picks his phone up, needing a break from the minutia of his job. He scrolls through his timeline, smiling at a few of the tweets... before he decides to tweet the Carters, letting them know he loves them both.

He puts his phone down, feeling a little bit better about the situation he finds himself in, and resumes his work for a few minutes until his phone buzzes to alert him of a text. Absentmindedly picking it up, he reads it quickly and starts to put it down before the words register with him and a chill of horror creeps down his spine. A tweet from Ethan in response to the Disney quote, saying simply "blocked". He checks his follower's list, a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it appears that Ethan is lying. He's not blocked... but still.

Closing his eyes, he puts his phone down and tries to focus on the unending paperwork before him, hands trembling whenever he tries to fill them out for Dixie.

-x

Ethan yawns lazily mid-Tuesday afternoon as he lays on his stomach on a massage table, running through his Twitter timeline while he waits to be attended to, soft jazz playing overhead. He's gone through it two or three times, trying to find something though he's not sure what exactly, when it dawns on him. He hadn't seen a tweet from Spud in... he can't remember how long. Frowning, he scrolls through, searches for Spud's name. He hadn't tweeted since the comment that had inspired Ethan to say _"Blocked"_, the realization making Ethan wince. "You always take things so seriously, Spud," he mumbles, closing his eyes.

Before he can get up, try to make this right, the masseuse comes in so he obliges her and waits as she rubs him down, not receiving the usual relaxing pleasure from it. As soon as she's done, he gives her a tip, grabs his clothes and leaves. After dressing, he drives right to the offices and wanders around, looking for Spud. He's nowhere to be seen but Ethan does find his aunt in her office and he knocks briefly before peeking in. "Hey, Aunt D."

She beams at him and hugs him before returning to behind her desk. "What can I help you with, darlin'?"

He hesitates while sitting across from her, casting a glance around as if Spud could be hiding somewhere behind the furniture, which... considering his size, almost would be believable. "I haven't heard from Spud in awhile and I was wondering if perhaps you've seen him latey?"

She purses her lips and frowns, nodding slowly. "Yes, I have. He seemed a bit tired so I sent him home. He wasn't any use for me while he couldn't even sign his own name correctly. Not good morally for the other workers to see him, my chief of staff, in such a state."

"Right, of course," Ethan mumbles, knowing exactly why Spud looks so downtrodden. "Thanks, Aunt D. See you for supper?"

"Of course, darlin'." She leans in for him to kiss her on the cheek, watching him rush from the room as soon as his nephewly obligations are fulfilled.

Ethan taps his fingers against the seat next to him as his driver makes his way through Tennessee traffic, resting his head back and trying not to lose his mind. Finally they make it to the house, through the gate, and he unlocks the front door, heading through the vast halls to find Spud. Spud's rooms are off of his wing, between his and Dixie's, and he knocks plaintively at the door, biting his lip. He can see a light shining under the door so he's pretty sure Spud's awake, knocking again. "I know you're in there, Spud. Let me in."

There's some shuffling and panicked mumbles from the man before he makes it to the door, pulling it open and staring up at his best friend. Ethan immediately hisses, staring at Spud in shock. Dixie had grossly understated Spud's visible exhaustion- the bags under his eyes are so dark, Ethan thinks he could swim in them, his hand on the doorknob is shaking and there are smudges of ink all over his skin. "Sir, what do you need?"

Ethan grimaces and tugs the stack of papers threatening to rain upon their feet out of his hands before guiding Spud over to his bed, piling up more of the looseleaf papers scattered all over and putting them on the desk. "What the hell are you doing, man? Working yourself to the bone at home?" He gives Spud a slight push and it's enough to send the weary man tumbling back onto the mattress, his face melting from an affronted look to one of reluctant bliss as his body sinks into the soft sheets.

"I was trying to make myself useful, sir," he mumbles as his eyes flutter sleepily. "Trying to find a way to... stay on the air... figure out a network that would want us... no matter how much you hate me, I want to stay, sir. I love it here too much."

Ethan winces and rests a hand on Spud's shoulder, guiding him onto his pillow. "I don't hate you," he sighs. Glum blue eyes peer up at him and he nudges Spud over so he's less likely to fall off of the bed. "Your tweets about friendship, I mean, you have to understand... I was raised very sheltered... and the kids I did know, I wouldn't consider them friends. So I look at the things you say sometimes towards me and it, yeah, it's a little weird. I reacted harshly and I'm sorry about that. It's nothing personal, it's just kneejerk reaction because I... don't feel like the man you think I am. Ever. I'm a jerk, I'm not someone who deserves to be anyone's best friend, or loved, or whatever else you might say about me."

Spud is frowning up at him, clearly too tired to wrap his head around everything Ethan's just said, but he rests his hand on Ethan's and squeezes with everything in him anyway. "You're wrong, sir. You deserve all of that and more."

"You're the only one who thinks so," he mumbles, ducking his head. "No matter what I do or say-"

"And I will continue to, sir, because it's true." He smiles softly and closes his eyes, their hands still interlaced as he slowly gives in to sleep.

Ethan stares at him, perplexed, before glancing over at the stacks of paperwork. "Don't worry about TNA," he whispers. "The three of us, we'll figure that out together too." He considers laying Spud's hand down and letting him rest in peace, but he has such a strong grip on him that Ethan opts instead to stay, listening to Spud breathe as the last couple of days of radio silence between them fades away, replaced by this much prefered reality.


	35. Number 1 Tiger

Spud is bogged down by more paperwork for TNA, starting to see double, when he notices his phone is flashing. Sighing, he reaches over and picks it up, bringing it closer... but before he can read it, he realizes he'd improperly filled out a form. Groaning, he pulls it over and begins to correct what he can, thankful for WiteOut. Upon completing that, he pushes the papers aside and lays his head on the table, exhausted. He loves his job but sometimes the red tape and busy work kills him worse than any wrestling match possibly could.

Remembering his phone, he finds it in the mess the table has become and checks the text. A smile immediately crosses his face as he sees it's from Ethan, calling him his #1 tiger for International Tiger Day. "Oh, sir," he murmurs happily. He replies with a quick tweet about what a good friend Ethan is. He yawns and stretches before looking back at his phone when it lights up again.

_ ethancartertna: rockstarspud wait... no._

Spud stares at the short tweet, trying to figure out the meaning. That Ethan had changed his mind, that he _isn't _a good friend, that...? Wanting to reply directly to the tweet, he accesses his mobile web and looks over his timeline, frowning. The confounding tweet is missing from his timeline and he grimaces, standing up. "Well, sir, I'm not letting this go." Pocketing his phone, he scoops up other things he'll need to finish his work at the house and peeks in to Dixie's office. Finding her gone, he leaves a note for her before heading for the parking garage where his car waits for him.

Upon arriving at the house, he goes to find Ethan and finds him tanning by the pool. Kicking off his shoes, he joins him and sighs as the warm air tickles against his skin, the bright sun overhead rejuvenating him after so many hours in the office. "Sir."

Peeking an eye open, Ethan glances at him. "Spud." Before he can lay back and resume ignoring everything around him, Spud thrusts his phone in his face and allows him to read the tweet he'd deleted. He grimaces and swats at the phone. "Why do you get tweet alerts sent to your phone?" he huffs. "So ridiculous..."

"For moments like this, I think sir," he says with a sigh. "So which is it? I'm _not_ your #1 tiger... or you're not a good friend?"

Ethan stares at him darkly before grabbing his phone and deleting the text alert, handing it back. "Nothing, I shouldn't have said anything. Just let it go."

Spud bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying to think about how best to respond. Finally getting up, he curls next to Ethan on the chaise lounge. When his presence isn't outright complained about, he relaxes and stares up at the sky, absorbing the silence for a few moments. "You may not think so, but you are a good friend, sir. I understand it's bizarre for you because no one was ever this loyal to you, but... no one's ever given me pep talks or picked me up and carried me when I was injured either, sir. If I ever seem... overenthused, that's why. It's new to me as well and I suppose I overcompensate because I want you to know how much it means to me."

Ethan doesn't say anything, breathing steadily against Spud's side and he worries for a moment that his best friend had slept through his heartfelt explanation... but then Ethan's hand rests on his forehead, brushing his hair back. "I know, Spud." Their eyes lock and he smirks. "Now how about we stop talking and just enjoy this beautiful weather, tiger?"

Spud flushes. "Yessir," he agrees, settling back against Ethan's shoulder and doing just that, his fingers still carding through Spud's hair.


	36. Go To Bed

Ethan groans as, every time he closes his eyes, his phone lights up anew. With each passing day, Spud's neediness is getting worse. And he understands, on some level. TNA's future is uncertain, Dixie is constantly targetted by Bully Ray, and they're all desperately clinging to anything that they can find. It sucks all around, but the constant Disney tweets about their friendship and who knows what else Spud can think of to send along to him makes him want to yell at the British man more and more.

Which he finally does, in a sense. Ordering him to stop and just go to bed. Which thankfully, he does, the phone remaining dark and motionless after that. Except that now Ethan's conscience is prickling at him and he sighs, finding himself still unable to sleep because of Spud. "Son of a bitch," he mutters, sitting up and running his hands through his hair. When he leaves his room, Spud's bedroom is empty, but the bathroom light is on so he assumes he's getting ready for bed in there. Grunting, Ethan walks into the bedroom and sits in a chair to wait.

Spud always takes forever brushing his teeth, but Ethan has only been there a couple of minutes before the bathroom door opens, then closes, Spud's soft footsteps padding down the hall towards him. He waits patiently, looking up with a small smirk as the British man walks in and fumbles around for his lamp, finally turning it on. They both squint against the light before Spud turns and spots Ethan, jumping back in surprise. "Sir! Uh, uh... what are you doing...?" He falters, staring at the phone in his hands. "I'm sorry about the tweets, sir. I know it bothers you. I'll try to slow down with them-"

Ethan holds a hand up, which quiets Spud immediately. "Look, I know I was kind of rough with my tweet. It's just, it's late and I know I'm exhausted, you have to be too. A lot is going on and there's no point in staying up to all hours just to tweet me these things. You're up earlier than almost anyone to go to the office and help my aunt, or to be at TNA tapings, so that's mainly why. Alright? Yes, they make me uncomfortable sometimes, but there's no point in you using up hours you should be sleeping."

Spud nods slowly, swallowing. "It's fine, though, sir. You don't need to worry about me. I don't need _that_ much sleep."

Ethan rolls his eyes and points to the bed. "Get in. Now." Spud sputters but obliges, scrambling under his sheets and watching Ethan with wide eyes as he approaches. "Phone."

"Sir-"

"Phone." He wiggles his fingers in Spud's face obnoxiously until he hands the device over. Nodding, Ethan walks resolutely over to the other side of the room and drops it in the closest shelf in Spud's dresser before returning to him, unsurprised to see he's already fighting off sleep, blinking desperately. "Now get some sleep. You clearly need it."

Spud pouts at the loss of his phone but soon enough, his eyes slip closed and his face smooths out. "Sir?" he whispers, voice thick with exhaustion.

Ethan sighs, itching to get to bed himself. "What, Spud?"

"Thank you."

His face softens and he reaches out, patting Spud's hands. "Yeah, sure. Good night, Spud."

"G'night, sir."

He stands quietly and watches until he's sure Spud's really asleep and won't go hunting for his phone as soon as Ethan leaves, then returns to his bedroom, where he sleeps peacefully the rest of the night.


	37. Spotlight

_So happy. Watching IMPACTWRESTLING. ShowtimeEY is on my tv, EthanCarterTNA music is playing, &amp; RockstarSpud is stealing the spotlight._

Spud stares at the tweet, his lips twisted unhappily. His job, as he understands it, is simple. Run errands for Madam Dixie, do whatever grunt work is needed at the office, and ensure both Carters are kept safe at the tapings. He's not supposed to take attention away from them, he's supposed to make the crowd focus on their wealth and abilities, good looks and successes. He closes his eyes, aware that Ethan will see the tweet soon enough, since his name is tagged to it as well. "Bloody hell," he sighs.

"What's wrong?" Ethan asks, walking into the living room with a towel wrapped around his neck, clearly preparing on going for a swim. 'Bully Ray saying something else now?"

"No," Spud shakes his head slowly. He watches as Ethan sits next to him, locating his phone among all of Spud's paperwork and scanning through his tweet alerts. The British man cringes, waiting for Ethan's inevitable blow up when he sees the tweet. But it never comes, Ethan rolling his eyes and even laughing at a few of the tweets before putting his phone down and sitting back against the couch cushions, looking entirely like a man of leisure. Spud envies him this briefly as he scoops up some papers and begins skimming them, barely able to digest what he's reading. He realizes he's scanned over the same sentence twice before looking up at Ethan for a moment. "Sir?"

"Yes, Spud?" Ethan murmurs, his eyes opened an inch as he looks over at his best friend.

Spud hesitates, trying to get the papers in some sort of order before meeting Ethan's eye. "Do you... think I take the spotlight off of you and Madam Dixie, sir?"

Ethan doesn't say anything for a long moment before sitting up and stretching, turning to face Spud. "Didn't a tweet say something like that?" he chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, Spud. We wouldn't be in this business if we weren't all hams, right? Of course we all like the spotlight... and you make our group better for it. But it's not overwhelming, when it's my turn to have everyone's focus, I take it. Don't worry. You're fine."

Spud relaxes a little at this, staring into Ethan's eyes and seeing no lie there. "Alright, sir, if you're sure," he says softly. "I'd never want to do anything to make you or Madam Dixie displeased with my work ethic."

"Then just keep doing what you're doing." Spud nods, watching as Ethan gets up and heads for the pool area. He pauses at the glass window and looks over his shoulder. "Wanna take a break and come join me for a swim?"

Spud's eyes brighten at the suggestion. He carefully puts the papers down on the table and joins Ethan. "Yessir!"


	38. Best Friends

It's a Sunday afternoon, Spud having a few hours off from promoting TNA and doing his usual duties as Chief of Staff, when he sees a tweet that takes his breath away and leaves him with a bitter, twisted feeling in his chest. He squirms and runs his hands through his hair, relieved that he's working from home. And that Ethan is at the gym. Getting up from the couch, he dusts his hands off on his pants and goes outside, staring across the impressive patio that leads to the pool.

He'd never bemoaned the Carters their riches, despite his own modest upbringing. Had never envied his bosses their successes. Merely kept his head up, comfortable in his own position alongside them, and the strong friendship he has with Ethan. Or at least thought he had. But twitter can reveal odd things, like how Robbie E and Ethan are apparently spending more time together, enough that Robbie proclaims Ethan as being _his_ best friend.

Spud hugs his knees to his chest and stares out over the cool blue water, pondering those tweets. How Ethan hadn't seemed to think it was anything serious, flippantly brushing it off. Groaning, the British man presses his face against his legs and tries just to breathe normally. Robbie's scum, but all in all he seems like he'd gel better with Ethan at first sight- both men with the same sort of senses of humor, both athletic and with something to prove to the wrestling world... Not at all like him, with his awkwardness, his British ways, his height and so much else holding him back.

He sighs and finally unfolds from around himself, kicking his shoes off and dipping his toes in the water. It's the perfect temperature, of course, and he sighs, laying back against the sunkissed concrete, the warmth soothing sore back and neck muscles after weeks of being put through tables and other such abuses. He's fallen into a sort of halfdoze, unaware of how much time has passed- or even that the sun has set- when he hears footsteps heading his way, and the subtle splash of water as someone joins him.

"So this is where you've been hiding all evening," Ethan's voice, low and comfortable, says, causing Spud to jerk awake.

"Oh, sir," he says in faint surprise. He yawns and rubs at his eyes before sitting up, looking confused. "What's going on?"

Ethan shrugs with a smirk. "That's what I'd like to know, Spudsy. What're you doing out here so late?"

The chief of staff hesitates and runs his fingers through the water, studiously looking everywhere but at Ethan. "I suppose I didn't want to intrude if you were hanging out with Robbie E."

Ethan stares at him for a few moments incredulously before gripping his face and making him look at him. "Spud... why would I be hanging out with _him?_" They stare at each other before Spud's eyes slowly lower, a deep sadness in them, and Ethan remembers. The tweets earlier, ones that he'd forgotten in the haze of workout burn off and the long drive home, traffic being an utter bitch for a Sunday afternoon. "Oh come on. He's not my best friend, he just likes to over-exaggerate..." But it does nothing to change the expression on Spud's face, so he nudges the British man's jaw with his knuckles. "Besides, it's kind of funny to watch you get so jealous."

Spud's eyes finally snap up. "I'm not jealous, sir!" When Ethan chuckles, he flushes and pulls away. "I'm not. It's just, Robbie E is... is..." He flounders, failing at finding a word to describe the man.

"Scum," Ethan offers after a moment, a sharp grin tugging at his lips as Spud looks back at him.

"Yes. Scum! He's scum. And you deserve better."

Ethan hums and leans back on his elbows, looking up at the darkening sky overhead. "Well, to be honest, I already have that," he muses. Spud looks confused until Ethan glances over at him and tugs at the back of his shirt, drawing him down to rest next to him. "You _are_ my best friend. It's just too easy to rile you up sometimes. Don't you know by now not to take me _that_ seriously?"

Spud swallows hard, examining his profile in the waning light. "I... well, yes..."

Ethan laughs drily and wraps an arm around him, ruffling his hair in exasperated affection. "Uh huh. Well, try to remember it next time, alright?"

"Yessir," Spud agrees quietly, turning back to watch as night finishes taking over the horizon.


	39. Bad Times

Spud tries. He tries so hard. But the last few weeks are for nothing- It Happens. Dixie gets put through a table while he's passed out cold on the outside of the ring, and he's unaware of it until he wakes up and stumbles to his feet, listening to the audience cheering and buzzing as they slowly leave the arena, the night over. He grips the ring apron, head spinning, as he sees her shoes poking out of the rubble. His breath seizes and he looks around for Ethan, someone, anyone to tell him that his eyes are playing tricks on him.

But it's no joke. It'd happened, she's hurt so badly and all he can do is follow, speechless. Ethan doesn't say a word to him as they drive to the ER, Dixie in an ambulance ahead of them. Not a word is spoken at the ER either, nor when she's transported to a regular room up a couple of floors to spend overnight while they run scans on her back and neck. Spud frets around Ethan, desperate to ask if he needs anything, but unsure how to find the words. He fears that what Ethan needs he can't truly provide, anyway.

Finally, around 8 AM, when the hospital is starting to buzz with visitors and breakfast, Spud finds his voice. "Sir, do you want something to-" He doesn't even get a sentence finished before Ethan turns to stare at him with a cold, almost dead expression on his face.

"I'm contacting TNA headquarters in a little bit. Go to the airport, there'll be a flight waiting for you to go to England. You can help promote British Bootcamp while I handle things here."

It stings, feels like Ethan had slapped him hard across the face. Spud stares at his feet, never having been dismissed so coldly like this before. Not by Ethan, at any rate. "Ye- yessir," he says, unable to find anything else to say. He swallows down his natural inclination to take care of Ethan, get him breakfast, something to drink, maybe a pillow to help him be more comfortable on these impossible hospital chairs, but he has his orders. So to the airport he goes.

The flight is long, his eyes are gritty and he hates himself for giving in to a desperate need for sleep halfway through. It's not long enough to catch up on badly needed rest but he stays strong, determined to do what Ethan requested of him, starting a long list of interviews, appearances and everything else he'd been emailed during the flight. By the time the sun's gone down once more, his head is spinning and he slips onto the hotel computer, accessing twitter and checking his mentions. Nothing from Ethan, no emails, no texts that he can tell when he peeks in at his phone account log.

Barely able to focus beyond that, he logs out of everything that he can and stumbles upstairs, heartbroken and head in a fog. Sleep doesn't come easily that night either.

The next few days that he spends in England follows this track- sleepless nights, rushed days and grim nights, until that Sunday. He checks Ethan's twitter account upon returning to the hotel and sees. He goes from tweets about how he's sick to a simple tweet saying he's vanishing. Spud swallows, his hand hovering over the mouse, but although he tries telling himself it's just a joke about the video game that's being released soon, coincidentally enough with a title similar to the tweet, he can't help but feel like it's true. He's never felt this far away from his best friend, or Madam Dixie. And he doesn't just mean physically.

Accessing Ethan's DMs, he leaves him a quick note, not wanting to bother him, especially if he's sick. _I'm so sorry, sir._ Simple, short, to the point. Like Ethan tries to get him to do so very often. Logging out once more, he leaves the hotel computer and returns to his room, where he brushes his teeth and stares at the calendar, marking off one more day to bring him closer to heading to his new home, with the Carters.

The thoughts of Ethan, alone and sick, trying to keep everything together for his aunt, breaks Spud down further and he sits on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands for awhile as painfully raw emotions shake through him. "Sir," he breathes out. "I'll be home soon. Please... let me help you when I arrive..." Crawling up his bed, he presses his face into the pillows, eventually crying himself to sleep.

When he wakes up, it's early enough that he has a couple of hours until the next interview about British Bootcamp. Heading to the hotel lobby, he finds the computer free miraculously, so he accesses his twitter account once more and swallows upon finding a DM waiting for him.

_I know, Spud. See you soon._

Spud smiles painfully, staring at the six words, imprinting them to memory. He chooses to believe that it's a good sign, that Ethan perhaps misses him as much as he misses Ethan.


	40. Immigration

They're all pale. Quiet. Sitting in a police station like it's an every day occurrence for one Ethan Carter III to be arrested for resisting arrest, or Rockstar Spud for striking a police office. He holds his head in his hands and tries to breathe normally as Spud adjusts his messed up suit. "So stupid," he finally bursts out, only loud enough for Rhyno and Spud to hear. "I'm a Carter! I shouldn't be in _jail,_ what the hell _is_ this?!"

Spud immediately turns to his best friend and tries to fan him off with his hands to calm him down. "It's fine, sir," he says softly. "The lawyers will be here soon and-" Ethan's steely gaze quiets him as he ducks his head and looks away, almost ashamed.

"Who exactly will handle that, Spud? Aunt D, poor Aunt D, is all alone in that worthless hospital, you are here, there's no one left to call the stupid lawyers!" Ethan breathes heavily, working himself up into a near panic attack until Spud stands up and approaches the nearest police officer, shocking Ethan into silence.

"Excuse me," he says. "As I understand it, those arrested are entitled to one phone call."

"You haven't been processed yet, wait your turn," the man says boredly. Spud isn't entirely satisfied by this answer, but he already has a fair amount of bruises from being manhandled by the police officers while being escorted out of the building and arrested so he returns to Ethan's side and waits.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, they're called forward one at a time and put through the paces- fingerprinting, having their mugshots taken, etc etc. Spud's head is spinning by the time it's concluded but he still has the presence of mind to repeat his request for a phone call. This time it's granted and he finds himself in a little side room, desperately dialing the number of the best lawyer the Carters have on retainer. It's a short call, the man well aware of what his job entails, and before Spud's time is up he's confident that Ethan will be out within the hour.

Sadly, his own situation is far from being resolved so easily. He doesn't even need to be told- his work visa is the only thing keeping him from being deported, and being arrested causes even more eyes to be on him. He could easily be deported but he keeps this to himself, waiting and listening for the actvity that always follows one of the Carter lawyers' wake. It doesn't take long to come, and he smiles in some relief that at least he could still help Ethan out when needed.

Rhyno is released as well, but he is left behind, the Carter lawyers raising their eyebrows at the mess his immigration status makes things and decides to hold off until the next morning. Spud goes along with it, hoping that come morning, cooler heads will prevail and he'll get a judge agreeable to let him go with just a slap on the wrist.

-x

Despite being released early enough, Ethan is still exhausted by the next morning. He had visited his aunt in the hospital, then spent the rest of the night pacing around, listening to his lawyer's thoughts regarding Spud. There had been a long list of arrest warrants out in his name and Ethan shakes his head from the first one listed. "That's not Spud," he insists after each one, wondering what kind of stolen identity nonsense he'd gotten caught up in during his life.

The lawyers seem noncommital about if they could get Spud out, and keep him from being deported, and Ethan gnaws at his bottom lip once they're gone. Yeah, Spud has his moments where Ethan almost thinks he's more trouble than he's worth, but dammit, the guy's loyal. So loyal that he'd used his free call just to get _Ethan_ out of trouble. "Shit," he sighs. _Well, if the lawyers can't think of anything, maybe I can._

Money, power, influence. Nothing had ever been a weakness to Ethan. He'd had it all, usually all at once. Which had given him the space and time to be a creative thinker, because hell. If he already had everything he'd ever wanted, then what else was there to do than sit around and be bored, except for thinking outside of the box? For this reason, he's crafty. He's smart. He's innovative, always thinking of new ways to fix problems. So, after a power nap- that takes around three hours- he finds himself pacing and thinking of how to keep Spud in the States.

The lawyers have no idea, the police are unwilling to help, he can only imagine how immigration workers are feeling right now, so it's up to him. He pulls out his phone and starts researching visas, green cards, immigration statuses, everything under the sun. To actually prove that Spud's innocent of the prior charges would take too much time, though the lawyers had promised to look into it. He rocks back and forth in his expensive loafers and reads, rereads everything he finds on the subject. Nothing really gives him any idea of how to _fix_ this situation, mostly just stopgaps and what to do leading up to being deported from the country.

He huffs and scrubs at his face until finally he spots something. He goes very still, very quiet, and closes his eyes, tilting his head and pondering it. "Maybe..." After a period of time spent considering every angle of this new idea, he's on the phone once more to call one of the lawyers he can actually stand to talk to, a nervous glint in his eye.

-x

Spud is paid a visit by one of the Carter lawyers mid-afternoon, explaining to him about what they'd discovered. It's a race against time, is how the man explains it. Immigration is biting to get him deported back to England, and they need to move now to prove that Spud's been the victim of identity theft that could cause him to be deported. He nods and signs paper after paper, trying to follow along with everything that the lawyer is saying, but he's tired and depressed and misses Ethan. Finally the lawyer scoops all of the red tape up, nods briskly at the red-eyed British man before taking his leave.

Spud is taken back to his holding cell, where they're keeping him while waiting for word from immigration. The lawyer had suspected that this entire identity theft thing would perhaps slow immigration down, but he wasn't sure. All Spud can do is sit and hope. Wish for Madam Dixie's wellbeing, and Ethan's continued safety without him. He's dozed off, about to tip off of the hard bench, when he hears faint footsteps. The clank of keys in a lock, and then the rough scraping sound of the bars being pulled away from the cell. "Curtin," one of the police officers snap.

He jumps up and almost trips over his own feet, flushing when he comes face to face with the sneer on the other man's face upon regaining his balance. "Uh. Ye- yes, sir?"

"Follow me."

He does so, perplexed and worried that this will be it. He will be kicked unceremoniously from the States, and will never see Ethan or Madam Dixie again. Tears fill his blue eyes, trickling down his cheeks, but then he's motioned to sit in a chair in the squad room and he realizes that the same Carter lawyer who'd been earlier is back, sitting with a satisfied look on his face.

Spud stares at him, but is ignored, as the sergeant ruffles through papers and looks busy, until he can finally ignore them no longer. Spinning his chair towards Spud, he scratches his chin and looks over the wet eyed, blond haired British man, shaking his head with a rueful smirk. "Well, kid, we got the notice from immigration: you're free to go. Charges aren't being pressed against ya or the other guys brought in with ya, and your claim of stolen identity is bein' handled as we speak. Follow up with your lawyers, they'll tell you what you need to do." He raises his eyebrows. "I ever see ya in my precinct again, though..."

"You won't," Spud promises, lifting his hands while still shocked with what he's just been told. "I promise. Thank you, sir!" He walks side by side with the lawyer, unsure what to say. The man has his own driver and it's in this car that he finds himself being transported back to the Carter mansion. Upon arriving, Spud looks up at him. "Thank you so much."

"All part of my job," the lawyer says simply, before pausing, looking down into Spud's eyes. "You're welcome." He then gets back in the vehicle and waits to be driven off while Spud walks up onto the patio, peering back at the car before reaching into his bag of personal effects and finding his keys.

Unlocking the door, he heads into the house and pauses in the foyer, unsurprised at how quiet it is. "Sir?" he asks, padding through the various rooms, looking for the other man. The house is so quiet, he starts to think perhaps Ethan is off checking on Dixie, but no, there are lights in the living quarters, and only Ethan would leave the room with them on. He looks around and swallows before hearing something familiar. Ethan's phone, ringing nonstop. He glances around once more before approaching it uncomfortably. The only reason he answers it is because it's the number of one of the other lawyers flashing on the screen.

Before he can answer, the man is off and running. "Mr. Carter, I was looking into that matter of civil unions and immigration..."

That's all Spud registers, his mind going blank as the man rushes on through his diatribe about the legalities of it all. He's still standing there when the phone is snatched out of his hand and he turns to find Ethan staring at him incredulously. "Hey, I'll have to call you back." He hangs up the call and presses his hands to his hips, raising an eyebrow at Spud. "Answering my phone calls now, huh? And when exactly did you get out of jail?"

"Charges were dropped," he manages through dry lips. His eyes are locked on Ethan's phone as he reflects on what was just said. "Sir, would you have...?" His voice fails him as he considers if he truly wants the answer to this or not.

Ethan wraps an arm around his shoulders and leads him into the kitchen, aware that he's probably hungry. "I would've done what I had to keep you in the States, Spud," is all he says as he pushes the shorter man towards the table. "Come on, let's eat and discuss Aunt D's condition and put this behind us for now."

They say very little for a few minutes before Spud looks up at him. "Thank you, sir."

Ethan smirks over at him before shrugging halfheartedly. "You're welcome."


	41. Extradited

Anger. Unlike any Ethan's ever felt in his entitled, mostly perfect life. He wants to scream and throw things, make everyone who hurt his Aunt D pay right here, right now. But he's unable to, told by the Carter family lawyer to toe the line. _You've already been arrested once this month, don't make it any worse for yourself,_ he tells him coolly before snapping his briefcase shut and leaving the room.

"Worse for myself," he snarls, tugging at his hair. "How much worse could it get?" He listens to the silence before closing his eyes. _This_ is how it could get worse. He's sitting alone in the living room because Spud had been sent to England to promote British Bootcamp's second season. There had been some problems following their arrests with Spud's work visa in the States, TNA lawyers trying to keep him from being kicked out of the country by sending him over to England to help promote the show, help the group of talent do what he'd succeeded at previously. While he's gone, the lawyers are looking for a way for him to be allowed back in the country, but meanwhile, Ethan's left adrift.

His aunt is still recovering, refusing to see anyone, Spud is throwing himself 110% into British Bootcamp, and there's nothing for Ethan to do but grit his teeth and wait. Which is not his strong point, not at all. The lawyers talk to him a lot, about the charges against him, against Spud, against Rhyno. Enough to give them all records, enough to keep Spud out of the country indefinitely, enough to do all sorts of things to ruin their lives. And Dixie won't even let him talk to her for a minute. He stews over all of this, waiting until the lawyers have left to ball up the legal papers before smoothing them back out, skimming them all over again... and tearing them to shred with an angered yell.

Everything on his desk is swept off next, hitting the floor in a cascade of noise and mess that leaves him feeling _almost_ better, but not quite. It's not until he looks down to find that one of the items that'd hit the ground is a picture of him and Spud, taken at one of those dumb photo booths at a mall. He gingerly picks it up and stares at the silly faces they're making in two of the pictures, the boyish grins in the third, the calmer smiles for the fourth, and then, the final picture, Spud hugging him tightly as a look of surprise crosses Ethan's face before the flash. He taps his fingers agaisnt the picture, gritting his teeth and reaching over for his passport. It's still valid, the lawyers had promised that they'd get him off and he could travel wherever necessary for his career... but right now there's only one place he wants to be.

He checks the clock. He nods and calls those in charge of British Bootcamp in England. "Hey. I don't think it's right that there's not a Carter over there to make sure we're getting the best of the best." _Impossible, we already received that on the first British Bootcamp,_ he thinks before steeling himself and returning to the matter at hand. "I'm going to fly out, put these rookie nobodies through their paces."

Of course it's eagerly accepted, his name put on the show schedule immediately, and he's more than a little smug as he grabs his bag and prepares to leave. _Here I come,_ he thinks,_ ...Spud._


End file.
